Chiffon Kisses and Porcelain Smiles
by Lass Cherrie
Summary: ON HIATUS. / AU. / It's 1846, and Ichigo's got her heart set on finding true love in the Big Apple. But she's about to walk into a love triangle between 3 very eligible bachelors, and SHE'S the prize! Watch out, Ichigo. New Yorkers love a good scandal... I/K/R/M ?
1. Un

**July 29, 2010.**

A/N: I'm going to do my best to keep the Author Notes to a minimum in this story, guys, so after this chapter, they'll probably at the END of chapters only. Trying something new; I want this one to read smoothly :)

So, yes. Here's a new TMM romance. If you're looking for a story packed with scandalous affairs of the heart, you're most likely in an appropriate place. Yes, this story is relevant to the poll on my profile, which, yes, I only put up today. I got too excited and wrote this chapter anyway. I'll leave the poll up for a bit though.

A few things to keep in mind whilst reading:

**1. This fic is set in 1826, in New York.** Yes, they are all American.

**2. Yes, I kept their Japanese names.** It will seem strange, but you just have to let it slide, because my other option was to use their Dub names, and who the hell wants to do that?

**3. Yes, Shirogane is English.** It was necessary for the story. Just pretend he's not if you don't like it.

**4. My history skills aren't that flash**, so if things seem a little odd/out of place for the period - which, I shall declare right now is the ROMANTIC ERA - they probably are, and my bad for making the error.

**5. They might be OOC sometimes. **I apologise. Bear in mind I am trying to write them almost 200 years ago.

**6. I know very little about American geography. **I picked Virginia because I met some Americans from Virginia once, and they were cool. Sorry if Virginia didn't actually exist back in the 19th century. It does in this story. XD

**7. This is AU. **They have no super-powers. There is no sense of 'Mew Mew' anywhere in this story.

That said, I'll wrap this up so you can read.

**Dedicated to: **Fireflies Glow, who somehow managed to get me shipping K/I at least a little bit. Thanks, Bunny x

**Disclaimer: **It is a sad truth that I do not own Tokyo Mew Mew. :) I should mention here, too, that this story was inspired by Henry James' 'Washington Square', and Anna Godbersen's 'The Luxe' (which, interestingly, was also inspired by James' work, if you're curious). Appropriate disclaimers for them, too.

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**Chiffon Kisses and Porcelain Smiles**

**~ Un ~**

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The house on Washington Square was alive with noise.

It was an impressive sort of place; three stories high and filled with an unnecessarily vast number of rooms, each furnished more lavishly than the last. Its owner, a particularly well-off solicitor by the name of Aizawa, had spared nothing ensuring the maintenance of its handsome decor, and consensus of its splendour had spread quickly through New York, bestowing upon its occupants a fame of sorts.

The occupants in question were, in fact, two young socialites and their servant-girl, who were – at present – in the topmost bedroom. It was decidedly too large, decorated exquisitely with French carpentry and Egyptian silk linen, and belonged to Aizawa's generously spoiled daughter, Mint. The awfully snobbish girl had barely reached the tender age of fifteen, yet already sported a tendency to voice her often opinionated thoughts, and an insatiable desire for all the finest luxuries life could offer her.

Her friend, Ichigo, lightly pulled the lace curtain aside and peered to the cobbled street below with soft, chocolate eyes. She was staying for the summer while her parents celebrated their wedding anniversary with a trip to Europe that had cost them all but a few pennies of their life savings. Unlike snooty Mint, who had never known less than the crème-de-la-crème, Ichigo had grown up in a modest town in Virginia, and cared little for material wealth in spite of being impressed by the Aizawa estate. She brushed a few stray tendrils of fierce red from her face and turned from the window.

"Please hurry," she begged. "Everybody's out already!"

"Oh, hush," Mint replied lightly, her cool black-brown gaze unmoving from the oval-shaped mirror. She reached for a string of pearls and held them up. "Don't forget these."

Her personal servant-girl, a terribly shy girl named Lettuce, obediently took the pearls and wove them carefully into Mint's beautiful blue braid. It hung down her back, thick and luscious, the tips brushing her pinched waistline. She toyed with a loose strand in her petticoats with nimble, delicate fingers while she waited.

"This must be mended," Mint said with a small frown. "Fetch another."

"Of course," Lettuce said, removing herself quietly from the room. Ichigo, who was paying no attention to the goings on behind her, had returned to gazing at the scenery outside, one brown-booted foot tapping impatiently against the carpet.

"Do stop that," Mint said snappily, glancing from the vanity for a moment. "You'll wear a hole in my Persian rug."

"Sorry." Ichigo now bestowed upon her friend a cheerful, excited smile. "I can barely contain my excitement. How are you so collected?"

Mint sniffed pettily. "A woman of my stature must uphold herself with flawless poise at all times. A lesson you would do well to learn."

Ichigo rolled her eyes good-naturedly, in too good a mood to be offended. "But surely you're a little enthusiastic."

Mint examined her immaculate reflection with unmasked vanity. "I care little for boys. What are they but troublesome stones in a woman's shoe? I fail to see why you would work yourself into such a state. Why, if you could pant any more you'd turn into a dog!"

Ichigo scowled at her, blushing. "Not all of us have our futures written in a will, Mint."

"Better that than throwing myself at the feet of a man," Mint shot back glibly. "I refuse to be meat on his table."

"Watch your mouth!" Ichigo snapped hotly. "One day you'll find yourself in hot water, if you don't kerb that tongue of yours."

"I may say what I please," Mint replied snootily. "Those who don't appreciate it simply aren't worthy of my presence."

Deciding not to fuel their argument further, Ichigo reluctantly backed down, shooting a glower at the other girl's back before refocusing on the commotion outside to diffuse her temper. Her friend had always been posh, but it seemed the older she grew the worse she became. Sometimes she was downright insufferable. Ichigo sighed lightly and paid closer attention.

On the street below, people walked in twos and threes, chattering and laughing merrily. They were making their way to the harbour, as Ichigo and Mint would soon be doing. Today marked the arrival of the cruise liner St. Victoria, who would bring with her an abundance of foreigners, and the return of several local young men who had sought the wonders of the world. Many girls had been eagerly anticipating their return for months. Whispers about the men's eligibility had surged like wildfire, unstoppable and constantly fuelled. Gossip had centred on little else for the good part of the year, and it had swept Ichigo up in its tantalising clutches.

Her heart tingled with excitement. She let herself be carried off by her romantic imagination. Perhaps today she would meet the man of her dreams, who would sweep her off her feet and marry her tomorrow in the morn, and they would move to a faraway exotic place and have four beautiful children–

"There you are." Lettuce had returned. Mint quickly changed into the new petticoat, draping the damaged one over the taller girl's slender arm. "Attend to it land. Dress me first."

"You could really dress yourself," Ichigo pointed out, toying with one leg of the ribbon at her waist. Mint shot her a look of disbelief.

"Why on earth would I do something like that?" she demanded. "I pay her for exactly this. She would serve no purpose, and then you'd have even less than you have now, wouldn't you, Lettuce? You would have nothing."

Lettuce, who was retrieving Mint's blue satin gown from the handsome oak closet, flushed and nodded modestly. Ichigo watched her, uncertain why she felt unhappy doing so. Mint turned to Ichigo with a triumphant look. "See? Why should I rob her of her life?"

And Ichigo suddenly realised why there was a nasty taste in her mouth. "Well, if this is the poor girl's life I certainly pity her it!"

She stomped towards the door, catching her foot in the hem of her dress and stumbling ungracefully with a yelp of surprise. She held her head high, composing herself, hearing Mint's restrained laughter, and turned away, blushing hotly with embarrassment.

"Oh, look," Mint said, fighting her amusement. "I don't mean to set you off."

"I'll wait for you in the front parlour," Ichigo replied tersely.

"Oh, come now," Mint began again, then seemed to not have anything to follow it with. She settled for, "Surely you're not going to wear that ugly thing? Borrow one of mine."

Ichigo looked down at her cream dress, her pride wounded. She was rather fond of it, with its cotton bows, puffed sleeves and simple, sweeping skirt. She'd always thought it was sweet. She folded her arms across her chest defiantly.

"Thank you, but no. I _am _going to wear this dress, actually."

"Well, at least do your hair properly."

"I'll be waiting in the parlour."

Mint watched her leave, shaking her head to herself in bemusement. Sometimes she just didn't understand her friend at all.

~S2~

"Impatience is an unattractive face," Mint said, putting her hand against the wall to steady herself as the carriage hit a particularly uneven patch in the road. "Sit back in your chair."

Ichigo ignored her, leaning forward to stare excitedly out the window, her hand drawing back the black curtain. She swayed as they clip-clopped down the stony street. The horse pulling their carriage snorted every now and then. People glanced at them as they passed, mothers hastily pulling young children aside as they played in the road.

She loved New York. Loved its busy streets and tall buildings. She'd never seen anything like it anywhere in Virginia. Mind you, she hadn't really travelled much of Virginia, either. Everything here was fresh and new and different. Even the air tasted different somehow, and English sounded different spoken by a New York mouth.

"What are you looking at?" Mint asked curiously.

"Everything." Ichigo threw an impossibly cheerful smile over her shoulder. She turned back and caught a glimpse of water. "Oh! We're here."

The carriage drew to a stop, and they were instantly bombarded by a surge of voices. The coachman jumped down and hastened to open the door, pulling the fold-down steps into place. Ichigo practically exploded out of the carriage, thanking him quickly as she flew past. The crowd was tight even where they sat on the fringe, and she caught her hem in the door, toppling straight into somebody.

"Hi!" he exclaimed, disgruntled. "Watch where you're going!"

"Sorry!" Ichigo exclaimed, finding her footing and tilting her head back to look straight into the face of a tall, blonde young man. His fierce blue eyes were extremely displeased. He gave her the once over and glanced away dismissively, straightening his grey waistcoat.

"Your clumsy feet stepped on my foot." It was a sneer, with an accent she couldn't pick. Blood rushed to her cheeks.

"Well, perhaps your big foot shouldn't have been in the way," she shot back, glowering at him. He returned his gaze to her in surprise, one blonde eyebrow kicking up in evident amusement. He surveyed her as though he'd never seen a girl before. Huffing at him, Ichigo fluffed her skirts to regain her composure.

"Excuse me," she snapped, and stormed away into the crowd without a backward glance. Silly, ungrateful, awful boy! He didn't even deserve her apology. And he was so degrading – with just one look! He didn't even need to voice his open disdain! His face had said enough.

"Have you no mind?" Mint caught up with her, grabbing her sleeve. Her eyes flashed with irritation. "What a friend you are, charging off without a second thought about me!"

"Oh, I'm sorry," Ichigo sighed guiltily, slowing up. She reached for her friend's small hand, gripping it tightly as they were jostled by the crowd, working their way closer to the huge steam liner. It had already docked, and the gangplank was busy with people disembarking. The welcoming crowd cheered and shouted, women waving lacy white handkerchiefs in greeting.

"Is it as wonderful as you'd hoped?" Mint asked dryly, scowling as someone smudged her sleeve with soot. She reached into her sleeve for her handkerchief, swatting at her arm angrily.

Ichigo didn't reply; she was too busy standing on her tip-toes to see what was happening. She could just spot the tops of tall men's heads as they merged with the crowd. In spite of her excitement, she was a little disappointed. Unless she somehow got up close, there was no hope of her meeting anybody. People were hugging joyously all around as long-awaited family members returned at last. Wives kissing husbands. Ichigo's heart panged. They were so fortunate.

"Well, it seems we travelled all this way for nothing," Mint said irritably, glancing pointedly at Ichigo from beneath thick black lashes.

"We'd have been here on time if you hadn't fawned so long over your face," Ichigo replied shortly.

"Resentment is almost as ugly as impatience," Mint warned lightly. "And I never step out without ensuring my perfection."

"Charming," Ichigo said sarcastically. "So you're a vision in blue, and I'm destined to be a widow with fifty cats for eternity."

"Oh, don't be so melodramatic," Mint scoffed, trotting along as Ichigo huffed her way back to the carriage. "It isn't as though you'll never have the chance to see a man again. And besides, there's still the welcome ball yet."

"The what?" Ichigo stopped dead in her tracks. Mint nearly walked into her.

"Don't do that!"

"Sorry. What did you say?" Ichigo had whipped around. Her eyes were wide and intense.

Mint smirked, folding her arms across her dainty chest. "What would you be willing to sacrifice for this information?"

Ichigo's mouth dropped open. "What could I possibly have in my possession that you would covet?"

"Nothing," Mint agreed. "But this kind of power is rather liberating."

"Please tell me!" Ichigo cried, losing patience. "Your temptation is cruel, Mint!"

The smirk widened with delight. Finally, when Ichigo looked set to storm home on foot, she said, "Oh, fine. I suppose I should divulge. It would be ungainly of me." Ichigo relaxed, eyes wary, as though she suspected trickery. But Mint was true to her word. "Tonight the mayor is hosting the welcome ball for the passengers aboard the St. Victoria and their families. And anybody else attending, should they be appropriate guests."

Ichigo's heart sank again. "Neither of us know anybody aboard."

"Perhaps." The smirk lifted once more. "However, I most certainly qualify as an appropriate guest, and you may attend in my company."

Ichigo was so elated that she squealed with delight and scooped her friend into a tight hug. "Oh, thank you! This will be such fun! I can barely keep from grinning; I feel giddy. Oh, Mint, you're such a wonderful friend!"

Mint gave a small, self-satisfied smirk and straightened her skirt. "Well, I do try."

Ichigo quickly released her, her brown eyes glowing with unabashed joy. "Come, let's hurry! There's so much to prepare!"

"Hold your horses!" Mint called laughingly as Ichigo flitted off to the awaiting carriage. "We certainly won't be going anywhere until I've had afternoon tea!"

But even she couldn't help smiling at her friend's infectious enthusiasm, and she gathered her skirts to keep them from dragging and hurried after her.

~S2~

"For heaven's sake," Mint sighed exasperatedly, "Have you _seen_ a clock of late?"

Ichigo tutted and dashed around the guest room, looking for the missing shoe to her favourite pair. They were rich red satin, with neat little heels and ribbons tied in sweet little bows for decoration. They went rather well with the gown she was wearing; her best one saved especially for rare occasions like tonight. It was soft rose pink, with a tight bodice that snugly fit her small waist, and skirts that bloomed around her feet. The ribbon at her waist was the same red as her shoes, and several roses fashioned from silk lay on her dresser, to be tucked into her hair.

Mint perched idly on the loveseat in Ichigo's temporary quarters, glancing around at her friend's added decorations; the ridiculously frilly, heart-shaped lace cushion on the bed, the alpaca throw in a hideous shade of pink that didn't match the décor at all, and several tacky trinkets that seemed to be cat-themed. She wrinkled her nose; it was all tragically tasteless.

"I should be ready soon," Ichigo replied, eyeing her reflection as she looped several disobedient red ringlets atop her head, pinning them in place with a determined frown.

"As long as you're aware that it's already half seven," Mint replied, smoothing the creases from her black silk gloves. Her dress this evening – for she had changed, protesting loudly to the notion of anybody at the ball seeing her in the same garment – was rich sapphire silk, as blue as the ocean, and decorated at the throat and sleeves with black lace. The bodice, too, was trimmed with black, and the skirt overlay was patterned with black lace roses. Her hair was up, the braid twisted in an elegant spiral behind her head, and the diamonds at her ears twinkled in the fading sunlight.

"Half seven!" Ichigo gasped, shocked. "Oh, we'll be late at this rate!"

"Have you not been listening for the last half hour?" Mint snorted. But Ichigo was clearly inattentive, buzzing around the room like a frantic moth as she hastened to locate the missing shoe.

"Oh, bother! Have you seen it?"

"Seen what?" Mint was examining her reflection in Ichigo's mirror.

"My shoe!"

"Why should _I _have seen it? It belongs to you."

Ichigo threw her hands up in exasperation and flew from the room, startling poor Lettuce half to death as she brushed down the landing carpet.

"Is all well with Miss Ichigo?" she asked timidly when Mint appeared in the doorway.

"Quite," Mint replied, not looking at her. "Perhaps if she'd simply assented to your dressing her, we wouldn't be in this pickle. She does make life rather a chore sometimes." She raised her voice in response to the loud noises echoing from downstairs. "Darling, _do_ try not to destroy daddy's house, _please_."

An unintelligible, muffled shout drifted up to them. Shaking her head, Mint returned to the guest room. Moments later, she was back, a look of utter disbelief painting her features.

"For goodness' sake, child!" she called down the narrow staircase. "I've found it. Let it alone down there! Daddy will be ever so displeased!"

Ichigo thundered up the stairs in a most unladylike fashion, her footfalls heavy and ungraceful. Mint winced, swinging the red shoe in her fingers.

"Where did you find it?" Ichigo demanded, awed.

"Beneath your bed, of course," Mint replied. "Now put it on and let's be on our way, or I fear we'll never get there at all!"

~S2~

The night was warm and alive with an atmosphere of excitement that almost crackled with electricity. All the way there, Ichigo fidgeted with her gloves, curling her fingers together in a mixture of nerves and anticipation. Her eyes, rimmed delicately with black and dusted rose pink on the lids, flicked to the window and away constantly.

"For heaven's sake," Mint snapped, finally irritated with her. "Calm yourself. One would think you'd never been to a ball before!"

The horse-drawn carriage pulled up outside a rather extravagant establishment in the heart of New York's thriving metropolis. The streets were wide and busy with party-goers flocking to the event. Heels clicked against the sidewalks, which were illuminated by the glow of the impressive restaurants lining the road, and the tall streetlamps dotted at regular intervals.

The coachman assisted the girls to the pavement, then led the carriage away until later. Ichigo stared up at the beautiful architecture with wide, dazzled eyes.

"So help me," Mint huffed, taking hold of her arm and steering her up the concrete steps to the double-door entrance. "Try to be discreet about your not being local. I'd rather not be embarrassed by you."

"Come now, Mint," Ichigo replied in an excited whisper. "Parties are never as splendid as this back home. Let me be impressed."

"Do it with your mouth closed," Mint hissed as they were ushered into a grand foyer with a polished marble floor and a high, arched roof. Mirrors lined one wall, interspersed with marble pedestals topped with huge golden vases containing exotic flowers Ichigo had never seen before; bright explosions of colour that made her smile.

"This way," Mint's voice said impatiently in her ear, and she was being led away from the foyer and up a sweeping set of marble stairs lined with majestic maroon carpet. She let her gloved fingers trail along the lacquered banister, her gaze moving inevitably to the doors thrown open at the top. Behind them lay a sight so marvellous it took her breath away.

A huge ballroom sprawled before her eyes, wide and beautiful, with an intricate pattern swirling the floor. A brass chandelier, its thousands of crystals twinkling, was suspended in the centre of the roof. Tasteful paintings spread away from it, reaching towards the corners of the room. The windows were high and arched, framed by thick red curtains with heavy, gold-braid tassels. A long table along the back of the room was sheathed in a white cloth, offering frosted glasses of punch for the guests.

"Come now," Mint said primly. "You've been impressed. It's time for us to join them or they'll all start wondering if you're quite right in the mind."

Ichigo ignored this obvious insult and followed her friend onto the floor. The dancing was spectacular. At least a hundred handsomely-dressed men and elegantly-gowned women moved in unison, in a slow, lazy waltz that swept around the ballroom. Another hundred loitered in small clusters around the edges, watching, sipping punch and socialising.

"Shall we?" Mint suggested with a small smile as the song ended, and everybody clapped in appreciation of the well-dressed quartet atop a small stage by the punch table. The next song started up, and the blue-haired heiress slipped easily into the circle. She shot a teasing smile over her slender shoulder, and Ichigo blushed nervously. Dancing was not one of her strengths.

Moments later, she was steered by the arms of a stranger, and she found herself amid the dancing. Her partner was a fresh-faced young man, one she'd never seen, and he smiled down at her.

"A lady such as yourself should never stand and watch," he said jovially. Ichigo tried to relax so she wasn't so stiff in his arms, letting him lead, counting the steps carefully in her head and trying to mask her clumsiness. If she ever trod on his foot or stumbled a little, he said nothing, though she was certain she did multiple times.

As the waltz wore on and the girls moved from partner to partner, Ichigo grew clumsier and clumsier. It didn't help that only some of the men were good at dancing; it seemed many, like her, weren't gifted, and together they were nothing short of disastrous. Finally, Ichigo became so distressed that she was about to give up and leave the circle when she was passed into a pair of sturdy arms that felt instantly secure. The hand at her waist was reassuring and firm in its guidance, and she decided to stay.

It was a decision that was fortunate for her dancing, but otherwise rather unfortunate.

"I hope you're not as clumsy when you dance as you are when you walk."

The voice rang with familiarity in her ears, and Ichigo looked up into a pair of astonishingly recognizable blue eyes. He smirked openly at her, his blonde locks shining in the light of the chandelier.

Immediately, she puffed up angrily.

"I'm not obliged to speak with you."

"Is that your way of disguising that fact that you're focusing so much on counting?" he asked, the smirk deepening when she flushed and focused on something on the other side of the room, determined not to look at him. Irritation burned at her insides and she cursed her bad luck.

"Feel the music," he advised. "Your body will respond to it."

Her flush reddened; she refused to listen to him. It was difficult not to think about what he'd said, however, and she found herself trying to heed his advice in spite of herself. It was especially difficult to ignore him when he was particularly good at dancing. He was confident and sure as he led, and she found she didn't panic in his arms, but fell naturally into step with him. They said nothing more until the end of their turn, when he smirked again and said, "There. That wasn't so hard, was it? Mind you, you are a rather terrible dancer."

She stepped away from him faster than if she were dropping a hot coal, and shot daggers at him as her next – very confused – partner took her in his arms. The blonde man merely smirked with obvious amusement and watched her go. Ichigo did her very best to pretend he didn't exist, soothing her bruised pride and trying to cool her blazing anger. She simmered like a dangerous snake for the next few rounds, frightening her partners and barely even looking at the poor things.

Across the ballroom, Mint stood by a velvet curtain, delicately sipping a glass of punch she didn't particularly fancy, her eyes sweeping the room. Scanning the game. She sniffed dismissively to herself, decidedly disappointed. It would have been nice to play for a while. Mint was hardly a serious young lady when it came to matters of the heart. She believed in marriage, of course, but not in love. Love was for foolish children with their heads in the clouds. Like Ichigo, she thought vaguely. But she wasn't opposed at all to playing games with boys. She pursed her lips.

"And what has you creasing that pretty face of yours with such an unsightly frown?"

She knew that voice, and her lips turned up in a smile of pleasant surprise as she turned to greet her sudden company with appraising dark eyes. "Kish. How lovely it is to see your return. I trust you enjoyed the wonders the foreign world has to offer?"

"Rather," he agreed with a devilish smile. Tall and willowy, Kish was fair-skinned and dangerously charming, with eyes that glowed like rich honey, and messy locks of deep green that tumbled irresistibly into his face. When not pulled back as it was tonight, it swept his shoulders. Many a girl had felt the temptation to run her fingers through his hair, and one too many very likely had, if his reputation was anything to trust.

"I admit I'm rather jealous," Mint said, her gaze moving back to the dancing. "To experience the delicacies of other lands must have been wonderful."

"Oh, it was," Kish assured her. She could already hear the smirk in his voice. "There is nothing more delicious than the fruit of a foreign flower."

The innuendo had the corners of her lips twitching. "I'm sure you tasted many."

"Naturally."

She risked a glance up at him, her old friend. His golden eyes danced with humour. "You are wicked."

"We can't all be saints, now, can we?"

"Heaven forbid," she replied, one delicate hand pressed to her chest in mock-horror. They grinned at each other. Mint linked her arm through the one he offered and they strolled in a leisurely circuit of the dancers.

"Fill me in," Kish said, "on the scandal I've missed in my absence."

"Darling," Mint replied lightly, "how could there possibly have been scandal when you were not here to create it?"

He smirked, eyes dancing, pleased with her answer. "I suppose, then, that you're yet to find a tolerable suitor? I see no engagement ring." His eyes grazed her left hand pointedly. "Unless you've hidden it away beneath that glove of yours, which would be rather clever of you."

"There is no man in New York who is worthy of this hand," Mint replied sniffily. "I hope your insult is intentional."

Kish shook his head good-naturedly. "Ah, fair Mint, you'll find your handsome benefactor yet."

"I don't hold my breath," she replied. "I dread the day. What use does a woman have for a man but to marry her, give her children and try her nerves?"

He laughed. "That, my dear, is how we came upon want for promiscuity."

"I couldn't agree more."

They strolled in a companionable silence for a moment, until Kish clucked his tongue and suddenly said, "And who might _that _delectable little firecracker be? I certainly haven't seen her before."

Mint followed his golden gaze and spotted Ichigo positively _seething _in the arms of a tall, blonde stranger. She was red-faced and glaring daggers at the curtains, and he seemed to behold her as though she were a form of amusing entertainment. Mint made a little noise of curious interest and shot a knowing look at Kish, who was watching her friend with an expression she knew only too well and recognised immediately. She'd seen it many times before, and it never boded well for the object of his contemplation.

"It is with your best interests at heart that I advise you not to give chase," Mint said lightly. "That would be my rather dear friend, Ichigo, from Virginia, and she'll no less look at you than take a garden snail in her hands."

"Watch her," Kish said, barely listening, evident delight in his voice. "Why, she's like an enraged kitten. Rather adorable, really. She wears irritation rather well; it's quite becoming on her." He tilted his head to catch a better glimpse as the couples turned.

Mint raised one eyebrow and downed the remained of her glass in one quick sip. "Believe my word, Kish, she will despise you. She's yet to hear of you, and when she does, she'll not even speak with you."

"Better I make my move before that happens, then," Kish replied, shifting his gaze from Ichigo's bright red hair for only a second to wink playfully at Mint. Then he released her arm and, with the smirk of a predator with an exciting new target, moved into the circle of dancers, leaving Mint rather astonished in his wake.

Ichigo was, by this stage, completing her fifth round of dancing, and forcing herself to partner that arrogant blonde man was more insufferable each time than the last. She loathed the way his eyes laughed at her when she was with him, but loathed even more that, in spite of this, she still enjoyed dancing with him. She didn't think she could stand much more of his presence without deliberately stomping on his feet, though, no matter how pleasant it was.

And, oh lovely, here he was again. She resigned herself to moving into his awaiting arms once more, when there came the clearing of a throat, and a new person stepped in her path, one arm already at her waist. The owner smiled at her in a manner that was altogether too charming, his eyes like liquid gold and perhaps too appraising.

"May I cut in?"

Without so much as a curt nod at the appalled blonde man, the newcomer slipped easily into place, taking her hand and guiding her into the waltz. Ichigo was so surprised by this interference that she nearly didn't see the blonde boy leave the circle, but she caught it in her peripheral vision. She stared up at her new partner, taking in his smooth skin and messy, dark locks and the way he was looking at her, and feeling uncomfortably like she ought to know him from somewhere.

"Please pardon my ignorance," she said, striking up conversation. His smile was gracious. "Am I supposed to have made your acquaintance already? If this is so, I must apologise, for I have no recollection of you." She blushed appropriately, and he smiled again, thinking to himself how very lovely it was when her cheeks turned pink. Already his mind was straying to unscrupulous places, placing hungry kisses on her lips; touching the soft skin of her stomach. He smiled again.

"Fret not, for we haven't yet met," he assured her. "My name is Kish. I spotted you whilst conversing with your friend, Miss Aizawa. We're old acquaintances."

"Oh," Ichigo said, her eyes lighting up with recognition. "You too are a friend of Mint's? I'm her guest this summer, after which I'll be returning to Virginia."

"Yes, she told me it was so," Kish replied, eyes still on her face. Ichigo glanced away, blushing deeper. It was a little disconcerting being under such a constant, determined gaze.

"Pardon my impudence," Kish all but purred with a devilish smile, "but you are simply delightful when you blush, kitten."

Ichigo snapped her gaze up incredulously. "I beg your pardon?"

"You don't mind?" Kish asked lightly, clearly loving her instant flare up. "I think it rather suits you."

"Why, you impertinent–! You know nothing about me!" Ichigo snapped. Honestly, if this was the kind of man New York had to offer her, between this obvious charmer and the ruder blonde man Ichigo had lost faith. Perhaps she would find a husband when she returned to Virginia, after all.

Kish lowered his mouth to her ear while they turned in circles, his hold on her extremely self-assured. "Well, I most certainly could, if you wish it."

Ichigo pushed against him and broke away, stopping their dance and bothering the couple nearest them. She glared at Kish with open distaste.

"Excuse me," she said shortly, as was custom. "I'm afraid I must take my leave."

Kish merely smiled and bowed his head slightly. "Until next meeting."

Ichigo whipped around and stormed off, still burning. "I should pray there will be none," she muttered under her breath, feeling his eyes on her back and shuddering inwardly. What an evening! It had turned out to be a complete disappointment, and it upset her rather a lot. She'd set out with such hope, and it had been utterly shattered before her eyes. Oh, how naïve she had been! To think she'd actually believed she might have found her prince charming in a big, exciting city.

Mint was waiting by the doors, as though she had the ability to read minds. There was a rather strange expression on her face, which Ichigo could only place as a self-satisfied smirk. Her petite arms were folded smugly across her chest. Ichigo was too angry for words, and Mint seemed to need no explanation.

"Shall we?" she suggested, and the two girls walked out into the summer evening, climbing up into the awaiting coach, Ichigo still fuming. As the carriage lurched and trundled into the night, Mint took a deep, satisfied breath and leaned back against the lush cushions. Finally – _finally – _Kish had returned, and – as always – scandalous entertainment for the rest of New York would no doubt follow in his wake.

She smiled in the darkness.

* * *

**If you read it and liked it, please review. It would mean a lot to me :)**

**Love,**

**Cherrie xx**


	2. Deux

**Chiffon Kisses and Porcelain Smiles**

**~ Deux ~**

* * *

The following morning found the girls in their daily tuition. Their education, Mint had explained upon Ichigo's arrival, was absolutely crucial for their futures, and the heiress took to her lessons with rather surprising energy. Ichigo, on the other hand, failed to see how learning French would be useful for her promising future as a married housewife with children, and paid little mind to what their tutor said, often losing herself in daydreams or drawing little pictures in her notebook instead.

Not this morning. Today she was simply in a terrible mood that lingered from yesterday. She sat with her book closed and her arms crossed, staring determinedly out of the window and generally being difficult.

"Miss Momomiya, please do pay mind to what I'm saying," Ms. Parker snapped, finally losing her patience. She brought her wooden ruler down on Ichigo's study desk with a sharp snap, and the girl jumped, startled. She shot an annoyed look at Mint, who merely watched silently, her gaze disapproving.

"If I were at home, I wouldn't be forced to endure such ridiculous torture every single morning," Ichigo snapped. "I cannot stand it any longer!"

"Unfortunate, don't you think, that you're _not _back in Virginia, then," Mint replied snootily. "You are in _my _house, and here we live by a different schedule."

"I'm tired of your schedule!" Ichigo said angrily. "I would rather be outside!"

"And play in the dirt? Don't be ridiculous," Mint scoffed, eyes flashing. "And if you were a little more patient, perhaps I would have taken you with me this afternoon."

She deliberately tempted Ichigo, baited her. And, as always, Ichigo bit.

"Where are you going this afternoon?" she demanded.

"Well, you see," Mint began, "there's a garden party I've been asked to attend. I was, of course, going to bring you along, but I think I shan't now, since you're being so impossibly childish."

"Well, good then!" Ichigo exploded. "Go without me, and I hope you are ridden with guilt for such a display of awful friendship!"

Teary-eyed, Ichigo fled from the library, where their lessons were held, and flew up the staircase to the guest room, where she threw open the door and flung herself down on her bed. She was sobbing pitifully into her pillows when there were soft footfalls on the stair and her door opened quietly.

"I don't want your company, Mint," Ichigo snapped into the pillow. "Please leave me alone."

The door shut again, and Ichigo was still for a few seconds, listening for silence before she started sobbing again. She almost jumped out of her skin when there was pressure on the bed beside her, and, her heart racing as it recovered from the shock, she rolled over angrily.

"Must I repeat myself–Oh… hello." For the face she found herself looking at did not belong to her snobbish friend but, in fact, to her servant-girl, Lettuce. Ichigo sniffled, astonished. Lettuce blinked at her, looking uncertain.

"Is everything all right, Miss Ichigo?"

"Quite," Ichigo replied flatly, and with a huge sigh, flopped face-first back into the pillows.

"Is there anything I can get for you?"

"Thank you, but no." It came out as something entirely unintelligible, it was so badly muffled by the pillows.

"Would you prefer solitude, Miss Ichigo?"

Ichigo pushed herself up again. "Actually, I do have a request."

Lettuce's gentle blue eyes brightened. "Anything you wish."

"Please stop calling me 'Miss'."

Lettuce was speechless. She looked downright shocked. Ichigo looked at her closely. Her green hair was long and tightly braided, but needed a good wash. Her face was smudged faintly with soot from the parlour fireplace, her dress – the same one she wore every day – dirty and damaged in places. Ichigo's heart melted again, the way it unexplainably and inevitably did whenever she was in the servant-girl's presence.

"Have you family somewhere, Lettuce?"

Lettuce looked worried, like she wasn't sure she should be speaking with Ichigo. "Yes. Only my mother, however. I have no siblings and I've never known my father."

"Do you see her often?" Ichigo asked, brushing her messy hair from her face and wiping her cheeks, finding her depression fading quickly now that she had found interest in something else.

"I return home most evenings after Miss Mint has retired to bed," Lettuce answered. Confusion etched her soft features. "I'm afraid I'm only a simpleton, Miss Ichigo. I'm quite sure I don't understand…"

"Oh, I'm merely asking out of curiosity," Ichigo replied. "And _please _don't call me that. I'd rather not have to ask another time."

"Begging your pardon, Miss," Lettuce said, bowing her head.

"No, no – please stop," Ichigo begged, reaching out to lift her shoulders. "I'm no more your superior than a stray cat." She sighed lightly when Lettuce refused to lift her head, and lay back against the pillows to stare at the roof, admitting defeat. If the girl wished to remain formal with her, it was her choice. "How I would simply adore for you to stand against Mint just one of these times."

Lettuce gasped. "I could never."

"Of course not," Ichigo agreed. "But there is nothing right in the way she treats you."

Lettuce said nothing.

Eventually Ichigo rolled onto her stomach, her dress hooking underneath her, her red curls falling all over the place. "Will you accompany me on a stroll?"

"Where would you like to go?" Lettuce asked, surprised.

"Anywhere," Ichigo said, beaming excitedly.

Lettuce chewed her lip anxiously. "I'm afraid I can't. I should not neglect my duties."

Ichigo waved one hand easily. "Fret not, for you would be in my company, and I am a guest here. Besides, I requested your attendance, so if you were to be scolded, I would take the blame."

Lettuce blushed. "I could never–"

"_Please_ come with me," Ichigo cut across her, chocolate eyes begging. "I'd rather not stay cooped up in this miserable house all afternoon, and Mint is rather unsuitable company. Wouldn't you just love to come out in the sunshine?"

"I really shouldn't…"

"If you are worried people will gossip, you can wear one of my dresses," Ichigo said, getting up from the bed and crossing to the wardrobe, her earlier mood completely dissipated. She threw open the doors, ignoring Lettuce's weak squeaks of protest behind her, and began rifling through the hangers. "I suppose you're a little taller than I am, but one of these is bound to fit well enough."

"Miss Ichi–"

"Here. What do you make of this one?" Ichigo held up a baby-blue cotton gown with bows down the bust and puff sleeves. Simple but pretty, though she'd never worn it. Blue was not a colour that suited her. She was rather pleased it would have a turn to be worn; she'd always felt a bit sorry for it living eternally in the back of her closet.

Lettuce was looking a little pale and teary-eyed.

Ichigo lowered the hanger, frowning a little. "Lettuce, wouldn't you simply adore to be free of this wretched house for one afternoon? Wouldn't you like to dress up like the rest of us and walk by a stream, or play in the park, or eat sundaes in the sun? Wouldn't you like to simply have _fun_ for once?"

A small smile bloomed on Lettuce's shy face, and it was instantly transformed.

Ichigo grinned with her. "Please come with me, just for one afternoon."

The smile strengthened, and for a short moment, Lettuce looked rather elated. Then there was a sharp pounding on the door, and both their faces fell.

"Ichigo!" Mint called shortly through the wood. "I've decided you can accompany me after all. Hasten to tidy yourself and we'll leave at half the hour." Her footsteps continued upstairs, and Ichigo's heart sank.

Lettuce quickly sobered, and rose quietly from the bed. She bowed her head respectfully. "Thank you for your kind offer, however, I'm afraid I must remain here."

She crossed to the door and was about to pull it wide when Ichigo abruptly made her decision. "I shall not go to the garden party. I have neither mind nor stomach for it. Let Mint go, and we can go elsewhere."

When Lettuce hovered uncertainly by the door, Ichigo walked to where she stood and firmly handed her the dress, which she accepted with tentative fingers. With an encouraging smile, Ichigo said, "Sit yourself here just a moment. I'll return shortly."

Then she was walking determinedly upstairs.

"I shan't be joining you," she said simply through Mint's carved oak door. "I pray you have a lovely afternoon."

"Suit yourself," Mint's voice replied dismissively. Ichigo quickly returned to the guest room, where Lettuce looked up with alarmed blue eyes, still fingering the pretty blue dress gently. Ichigo grinned excitedly.

"Here, let me assist you," she said. "We shall clean you up and dress you in this, and after Mint has departed, we'll go out and have ourselves some fun."

The excited smile on Lettuce's face was more rewarding than discovering the most precious jewel in the whole world, and Ichigo's heart sang with satisfaction.

~S2~

The afternoon sun was simply darling against their faces, kissing their upturned cheeks with gentle warmth and filling them with unmitigated happiness. Ichigo walked along the sunny street with Lettuce, who continuously looked down nervously and had to be reminded every so often that she wasn't a servant-girl now, and to hold her head high.

They strolled along a street lined with boutiques, and pressed their faces to the clean glass to peer inside at the latest range of dresses, shoes and hats, chattering away about which they liked the most. Ichigo seemed to do most of the talking, but she was quite comfortable with that, as she was certain Lettuce was enjoying herself, and that was – when it came down to it – what mattered the most.

They stopped at a vendor at the edge of the park and Ichigo bought them both vanilla ice-creams, which they enjoyed as they strolled across the lush green lawns, listening to the birds singing contentedly in the trees and watching small children squealing and playing. They exchanged stories every so often, and Ichigo was surprised at how small Lettuce's world really was. It seemed to consist solely of the Aizawa house, her mother's small home, and little else. In fact, Lettuce admitted with a dusting of pink blush, she'd never even left New York.

"One day, I shall take you with me," Ichigo declared, licking her ice-cream. "And you'll see what lies in the world beyond this city."

Lettuce, like usual, blushed furiously and quickly declined the offer with vehement appreciation. Ichigo let it rest, but was already thinking about where she could take Lettuce for a coach ride this coming weekend. Perhaps they could travel to the countryside somewhere. Ichigo was starting to miss the tranquillity of the rolling green hills and thick dark forests, and she was certain Lettuce would appreciate the natural beauty.

They finally reached the far side of the park, and turned to head back when Ichigo suddenly stopped, an idea bursting into her head. Lettuce immediately stopped as well, her eyes confused.

"Let us go to the garden party," Ichigo said, a dare-devilish smile lighting up her face.

Lettuce instantly paled. "Oh, I don't think so."

"And why not?" Ichigo demanded, still smiling. "Nobody will know you. Even Mint would fail to recognise you now. You seem a completely different person altogether."

"I feel like a different person," Lettuce confessed, blushing sweetly. In the sun, her long flowing waves gleamed healthily, her soft eyes sparkled, and the light blush on her delicate features made her quite beautiful.

"We need not stay long," Ichigo promised. She smiled guiltily. "I'll confess I did rather fancy attending."

Lettuce gasped, horrified. "Oh, Miss, I must apologise. If it were not for me–"

"Nonsense," Ichigo interrupted firmly. "I chose not to attend. You shall accept no responsibility for today. However, if you truthfully do not wish to attend the garden party, I will accept your choice and we shall return to the house. I rather would love to go, if only for a few minutes."

Lettuce's eyes wavered with emotion. She bounced nervously on the balls of her feet, chewing her lip habitually. Finally, she looked up at Ichigo with a defeated expression and whispered, "I could not stop you from attending. My conscience could not bear it."

Ichigo beamed. "You will have a simply lovely time," she promised. "Now, let's hasten before all the scones are gone!"

And she took Lettuce's hand and excitedly led the shy girl onward.

~S2~

The party was being held in the lovely green garden of a large, pretty white house with impossibly clean windows, and an inviting wraparound porch. Soft violins floated from behind the house to where the girls were entering through the front gate. Ichigo, still towing a terrified Lettuce by the hand, followed the brick garden path lined with rose bushes around the side of the house, nodding pleasantly to other guests mingling on the lawn.

"Forget not to breathe," she whispered over her shoulder with a giggle. Certainly, Lettuce's cheeks were so pallid it was a wonder the girl was still standing. They rounded the house and a rather lovely scene unfolded before them.

The yard was a large square, with lush green grass and a white marquee. The wooden tables underneath were sheathed in white lace and adorned with platters of delicate pastries and lemonade. Children crowded around it, trying to fill their pockets without their parents noticing. Several violinists and cellists were set up underneath a willowy tree that dangled its supple leaves above their heads. Ladies in peach, cream and lavender gowns lilted beneath frilled parasols, gossiping in hushed voices and stifling giggles, or batting their eyelids coquettishly at the men.

"Come," Ichigo said, smiling brightly and all but dancing to the catering table. She took a cream puff and handed one to Lettuce, who looked about to politely decline, but quickly accepted upon catching Ichigo's warning frown. They stood aside, by a pretty flowering tree, nibbling their pastries and licking sweet fluffy cream from their fingers, and watching little girls – including the energetic blonde whose birthday they were celebrating, whose name Ichigo remembered Mint telling her was Pudding – dancing in rings on the grass.

"Don't you just wish you could join them?" Ichigo commented, her eyes sparkling. "It seems such fun! Oh, to be so carefree once again…"

"And why shouldn't you be?" came a silky voice from behind her. Stiffening instantly, Ichigo turned, already frowning in annoyance.

"Well, this _is _a pleasant surprise," she said rather sarcastically to a dashingly-dressed Kish, who seemed to have wandered casually out from the bushes behind them. She stared at him suspiciously. "What brings you to such an event?"

Kish's glowing golden eyes flicked once to Lettuce, who nearly squeaked with alarm, but returned almost immediately to Ichigo, sweeping over her appraisingly. He chose not to answer her question.

"My, you do look lovely this afternoon."

"I suggest you save your praise for welcoming ears," Ichigo snapped shortly, folding her arms across her chest and turning away. To her annoyance, she felt her cheeks warming nonetheless. She simply couldn't deny Kish was devastatingly handsome, and she fought the urge to look into his lovely eyes. She stared determinedly across the lawn, knowing that, if she faltered, his arrogance would be insufferable.

"Dear kitten," Kish laughed, delighted, "you _are _fiery this afternoon. Do me the honour of accompanying me on a stroll?"

"I should think not!" Ichigo retorted, forgetting her manners. Then, blushing furiously, she added, "But I thank you for your generous offer."

"Oh, but I should like to know you better," Kish persisted, sliding one arm around her waist and applying gentle but firm pressure. Ichigo found her feet stumbling forward. She bucked, trying to pull away from him, and threw an alarmed glance over her shoulder at Lettuce, who looked about to faint. Kish laughed again, "Oh, don't fret so. On my word I'll have you only a minute."

Ichigo reluctantly went limp with a defeated sigh, and let him lead her away around the house. Her worried thoughts strayed back to Lettuce, and she prayed silently that the servant-girl wouldn't land herself in trouble while she was gone.

"Tell me something about yourself," Kish said presently, his voice pleasant – warm satin. "Something trivial, surprising."

"On what accord?" Ichigo demanded.

"I should like to know," Kish replied, shrugging simply. "I am a curious man." His gold eyes twinkled when he looked down at her. Ichigo quickly looked away, heat surging – against her will – to her cheeks. He chuckled to himself.

"And what if I should not like to divulge?" Ichigo snapped shortly.

"It _would_ be rather uncongenial of you," Kish replied. "However, you _are_ at will to answer."

"In that case, I think I shall not."

Kish stopped walking suddenly and spun her to face him. His eyes smouldered liquid gold, burning into hers with startling intensity. In her subconscious, Ichigo noted that they were somehow quite alone, and she cursed herself for being lax in his company. Who would hear her now if she cried out? Her heart hammered as he moved closer to her, though – strangely – she couldn't tell exactly if it were out of fear or something quite different. She backed away, tripping on the hem of her skirt, and her back hit the wooden wall.

Kish closed in smoothly, pressing his palms against the wall, caging her between his arms. His lips curled in a devious smile, his eyes still simmering.

"Why do you reject me so?" he murmured, almost curiously. His breath was warm and soft against her face. She was acutely conscious of the alarming closeness of his – oh bother it! – _very_ tempting lips. She caught herself gazing at them, lost in a trancelike daze, earlier irritation dissolving away.

"You are attracted to me," Kish's lips murmured. It was not a question, but an arrogant statement. The spell broke. Ichigo's eyes snapped from his lips; she glared up into his face, anger welling up violently in her chest. Who did this schmuck thing he was, encroaching her personal space so unapologetically?

"I despise you!" she practically exploded, and before he could say another word, ducked underneath his arm and fled away. Kish folded his arms across his chest, leaning his back against the wood and watching her go, deep amusement playing in his eyes. Oh yes, this was going to be a most enjoyable challenge indeed.

~S2~

Hovering beneath the apple tree, the sweet scent of its tiny white flowers wafting about her, Lettuce marvelled that she'd never been quite so petrified. She turned away anxiously whenever someone walked past, hoping she might somehow blend into the foliage and remain unnoticed. Her subconscious knew better, however, and she worried that it was only a matter of time before somebody spotted her here.

She felt sick with nerves. What if Miss Mint caught wind of her uninvited and entirely inappropriate attendance? She would be beyond fury – would she turn Lettuce out? She sucked in a shaky breath, fighting tears. She couldn't stand the thought! Her poor mother would ail terribly should she lose her position in the Aizawas service…

"May I intrude upon your solitude?"

Lettuce jumped violently, almost head-butting the trunk of the tree, and panicked internally, face pressed into the bark. Oh dear. Now what should she do? What should she say? Dare she turn and face the newcomer? She wasn't sure she could.

"I apologise for startling you," the quiet, calm voice said by way of farewell, and she sensed more than heard him turn to depart. Without thinking, she whipped around.

"Please don't!" she cried weakly. "How awful I should feel for rejecting such a request when this place is not mine alone to enjoy."

Her company was a tall, slender man, richly garbed and with perfect posture, one arm poised where it swept aside a cover of leaves, the other tucked behind his back in a most proper fashion. He held himself almost stiffly, his cool, steel eyes quite expressionless, his mouth a noncommittal line. Lettuce thought to herself that she rather liked the careful manner in which his thick purplish hair had been plaited down his back, and the way several disobedient strands brushed his face loosely.

Without another word, the stranger stepped beneath the tree with her, letting the branches fall back into place behind him. He glanced at her for a moment, watching her fingers twist nervously together and the shy blush of her cheeks, and turned back to face the celebrations, his expression almost contemptuous.

"I have little care for such festivities," he confessed tonelessly, clasping both hands behind his back. "I find them rather intolerable."

Lettuce said nothing, quietly hyperventilating to herself. Her thin fingers found her skirts, and she balled her fists in the soft material, clasping desperately at something material for comfort. Oh, how on earth had she gotten herself into such a mess? How she wished she were back at the Aizawa house, cleaning the landing mirrors or darning Mint's petticoats. She shouldn't be here; she felt terribly out of place, even if she blended in wearing Ichigo's dress.

The tall man glanced at her once more, and seemed to relax a little where he stood, if that were possible. Silence reigned, which he didn't seem to mind and she didn't dare break. After a few minutes of companionable quiet, he leaned back against the trunk, observing the party and enjoying the pleasant peace. He gave little thought to the awfully self-conscious girl beside him, but was thankful, at least, that she wasn't overly chattery or giggly like all the other silly girls he'd been forced to make the acquaintance of today. It was a change he rather appreciated.

"There you are, L–" A rather flustered redhead burst unexpectedly into their little sanctuary.

"–ime!" Ichigo finished lamely, staring in surprise at Lettuce's companion. He gazed back without particular interest, but mere curiosity. Lettuce threw her a frantic look, which she restrained a giggle at, forgetting her own qualms for a moment. She circled an arm around Lettuce's waist, smiling pleasantly at the tall man.

"I've been looking all over for you," Ichigo said to Lettuce. "I am ever so sorry for the intrusion." She curtseyed politely, her chocolate eyes flicking from shy girl to stonily silent man, asking wordless questions that Lettuce provided no answer to. She turned her attention back to the man. "I'm afraid I must steal her away. We must be going shortly, you see."

Relief flooded Lettuce's panic-stricken mist-blue eyes.

Suddenly Ichigo gasped. "Pardon my poor manners! I quite forgot myself for a moment. My name is Ichigo Momomiya, and this is… Lime." She froze, realising she didn't actually know Lettuce's surname. She steamrolled on, hoping he hadn't picked up her falter, fashioning stories as she went. "We are guests this summer at the house of Mint Aizawa. Perhaps you know of her?"

"Yes." The stranger didn't smile. "I am Pie."

Lettuce squeaked with what Ichigo guessed was recognition, and gasped without thinking, "Baron Kagakusha!"

His steel eyes beheld her with serene interest, and perhaps contemplation. He inclined his head. "Quite correct."

"Well, this has been most pleasurable," Ichigo said, sensing the urge to move them along before someone sniffed them out. She hadn't seen Mint anywhere, but she was bound to be here. "I apologise once again for stealing away your company."

"Of course not," Pie replied with another poised nod. Ichigo clasped Lettuce's trembling hand and pulled her through the leaves. They set off for the brick path at almost a run, which was most unladylike. Ichigo kept their speed to an acceptable brisk pace so as not to attract attention. She felt about her shoulders to rearrange her lace shawl and abruptly came up short.

"Oh dear!"

Lettuce stumbled to a hasty halt beside her. "Whatever is the matter?"

"I seem to have misplaced my shawl," Ichigo replied. "Go on ahead and wait for me by the gate. I shall be only a moment."

She gave Lettuce a small encouraging push and hurried back the way they'd come. She'd most likely dropped it in the confrontation with Kish, which meant she would have to do a full circuit of the house to look for it. What a bother! She prayed she wouldn't run into him again. That would be most unfortunate, and she wasn't quite sure what she would say to him.

Her eyes scoured the ground as she moved briskly around the side of the house. The chatter of voices was a mere faint hum in the background, so she was altogether astonished when someone said, very suddenly and very clearly, from close by, "If you don't watch your step you may collide with some unfortunate soul."

Ichigo looked up, and almost walked straight into the blonde man. Her mood soured very quickly. It might not have been Kish, but it certainly wasn't much better. She scowled at him without preamble.

"I must confess," she said, looking around for her shawl and ignoring him rather rudely, "that I'm rather not in any sort of mind for tolerating you to-day."

"How regrettable," the man replied with a measurable amount of sarcasm. "May I ask… what on earth are you getting up to? You look positively ridiculous examining the grass like that. Rather like a bird searching for grubs."

"Your unfailing rudeness astounds me," Ichigo snapped shortly, her mouth twisting into a frown of distaste, still searching. "I certainly hope you don't regard all women with such an approach. But perhaps that provides answer as to why you seem to be always without one on your arm."

He was appropriately stunned at her insult. His insufferable smirk faded darkly for a moment.

"And if you _must _know," Ichigo steamrolled on crossly, "I'm searching for my shawl."

"Perhaps you should have paid closer attention to it, then," the man replied, almost childishly.

Ichigo glared at him. "Perhaps. And perhaps _you_ should have paid closer attention to your lady friend, if ever you had one. _Perhaps_ you would not be quite so pitifully alone. Farewell."

Before the blonde man could retort – which he most certainly seemed about to, if she could trust the manner in which his brilliant blue eyes were flashing – Ichigo gathered her skirts and brushed past him. He shoved his hands in the pockets of his trousers and glared after her.

Behind the house was, thankfully, quiet. Ichigo searched quickly and efficiently for her missing garment, muttering bitterly to herself about her misfortune. How could it be that she seemed to run into _both _bothersome men at frequent intervals? It was most tiresome. She searched high and low, even following the white picket fence and looking under bushes.

Finally, she gave up, turning back around to head for the gate. She carefully stepped around the broad trunk of the tree she was looking behind, pressing her palm against the coarse wood for extra support. She dropped down lightly from the thick root she balanced on and promptly trapped her foot beneath another, sprawling most ungracefully – and rather painfully – across the ground with a sharp cry.

"Hi there," a gentle voice called in alarm, "are you quite all right?"

Suddenly, a stranger was beside her, his warm arms helping her tenderly from the ground. Dirt smeared her hands and skirt, and she reached up to brush her hair from her face, smudging her cheeks. She looked down at herself in dismay, then up into the stranger's face.

Her heart stopped.

He was – there was no other word for it – beautiful. He was tall and sturdy, with smooth olive skin and a boyish confidence. His shock of jet black hair was thick and soft-looking. It brushed his eyebrows – like artists' strokes – above eyes that were round and warm and _impossibly _compassionate. The loveliest shade of brown she'd ever seen. Like amber.

He smiled a gentle, easy smile and stepped back from her, taking out a handkerchief from his pocket.

"Are you in any pain?"

Ichigo shook her head numbly, unable to find the ability to speak.

"That _is _fortunate," the young man said. He reached toward her, then paused, his eyes kind but uncertain. "May I?"

Ichigo nodded, her eyes huge. His eyes crinkled in the corners and he wiped gently at the dirt on her cheeks, taking her chin in tender fingers and tilting her head to either side. "Perfect, if I may say so myself."

Ichigo blinked, a strange feeling sweeping through her body, causing her stomach to flip and flutter. She tried unsuccessfully to drag her thoughts into cohesion.

"I'm sure we've never met," the boy said politely. "May I ask your name?"

"I-Ichigo," she stammered, her voice oddly breathless. "Ichigo Momomiya." She recited the short spiel she'd come to memorize. "I'm a guest for the summer at the Aizawa residence on Washington Square."

"It's a pleasure to meet you," he replied with gentle serenity. "I'm Masaya Aoyama."

She couldn't look away from him. She simply couldn't break her eyes from his. It was he who finally looked down, stepping back from her.

"Well…"

Regret washed through Ichigo. She wanted him to stay and talk to her with his lovely melted-chocolate voice. She blurted, "Thank you. For your kindness."

He smiled gently. "You are most welcome."

Ichigo grabbed frantically at something – anything – that she could use to keep him from leaving. "Oh, my. Your handkerchief! Here, let me have it washed for you. I will return it to you."

He laughed lightly. "You may keep it. I have many."

Ichigo was unreasonably thrilled by this simple gesture. She took the fabric in her hands and smiled up at him with eyes shining with happiness. "Thank you."

He gazed at her quietly for a moment, and something in his eyes made her blush deeply and bite her lip, looking away. "May I call on you?"

Her eyes snapped back to his face with astonishing speed. Her heart leaped in her chest. He hadn't… he couldn't be… Was he truthfully interested in _her_? She could barely keep from grinning like a fool.

Masaya's laugh was a little awkward now. "I'm sorry. That was rather insolent of me. Please forgive my impudence."

"Oh – no!" Ichigo gasped, instinctively reaching out to grab his arm when he turned to leave. He looked down at her fingers, astonished, then up at her. She dropped her hands instantly, flushing.

"Oh, I'm sorry–" her voice was strangled. "I merely meant–it would be–oh, bother!" She fluttered her hands uselessly in her embarrassment.

He smiled with gentle knowingness. "Shall I come to-morrow?"

Ichigo took a deep breath, elated that she had somehow managed not to scare him off. She let it out slowly, her hands clasped before her, and tried to smile as graciously as possible. "That would be lovely."

His smile widened, and hers answered.

"Until to-morrow, then," Masaya said. She walked away backwards, hardly caring when she stumbled on her own feet.

"Yes," Ichigo said, so joyous she was nearly giddy. "To-morrow. Good-bye!" She sent him a small wave and, before she could embarrass herself further, turned and hurried away, her dirty skirts clutched in her hands. Only when she was certain she was out of earshot did she giggle at her unexpected fortune. Why, her heart was practically _singing. _She glanced back around the side of the house, but he was gone. She sagged against the wall, one hand pressed to her racing chest.

"Miss Ichigo!" Lettuce appeared, breathless, before her, looking panicked. "Where have you been? I was so worried!"

"Fret not, Lettuce," Ichigo replied, taking the girl's hands and dancing in a circle. "I'm perfectly fine. No – _wonderful_!"

Bewildered, Lettuce let her spin her for a few moments, wondering what had happened to put her friend in such high spirits. She tugged on Ichigo's hands and said, "Please, Miss, we really must be going. Someone will surely catch us before long!"

"Oh, very well," Ichigo agreed, and they set off up the brick path hand-in-hand.

"Miss Ichigo," Lettuce whispered anxiously, glancing around until they were safely out of the garden. "Please do not bring me to another party. I do not think I could bear it."

"Can you deny you enjoyed this afternoon?" Ichigo asked. "Did you not have fun?"

Lettuce blushed, looking down shamefully. She couldn't deny that. That party had been lovely, even if she had been terribly frightened. Ichigo laughed good-naturedly and pulled her shy friend into a warm hug.

"Come," she said, releasing her and setting off up the sun-kissed street, "let us return home. I have much to tell you!"

* * *

**July 31, 2010.**

**A/N: **Enter, Masaya! Even _I_ like him in this chapter XD Kish and Ryou better hurry up; Ichigo's heart may have already been stolen ;)

Kagakusha, by the way, means 'scientist' in Japanese. Fitting, I thought, for Pie's surname.

If you read and enjoyed, please review. S2

**Thanks** are due to...

**- Just Cy**

**- Ally Marton**

**- Rizu Neko-Chan**

**- Essence of Gold**

**- koZimiko-chan**

Thanks for your lovely reviews and con-crit! I appreciate everything contributed :)

Love,

**Cherrie xx**


	3. Trois

**Chiffon Kisses and Porcelain Smiles**

**~ Trois ~**

* * *

"Ichigo!"

Quick footsteps thundered up the stairs. Mint was making no effort to be delicate today. Ichigo froze where she was carefully braiding Lettuce's long hair, and felt the servant-girl stiffen under her fingers. Mint rapped sharply against her closed door. Lettuce stifled a frightened gasp.

"Ichigo Momomiya, I have it on _good authority _that you are within that room!" Mint called, in a tone that Ichigo knew meant she was in trouble. "Let me in at once!"

"Why, dear Mint, whoever is preventing you entrance?" Ichigo called back. Lettuce started trembling. Ichigo rubbed one of her shoulders comfortingly.

The door burst open. Mint stood upon the threshold, her eyes gleaming dangerously. She glanced between the girls, and a snarl curled her lip.

"Whatever are you doing?" she demanded, storming into the room. She slapped Ichigo's hands away from Lettuce's hair. Lettuce shot up quickly from the bed, bowing low at the waist.

"I beg your forgiveness, Miss!"

"I shall deal with you later," Mint spat at her. "You are dismissed. Make yourself useful and fetch my tea."

"With pleasure, Miss."

"No," Ichigo said, when Lettuce reached the door. "Remain. I request your company."

"Ichigo, she is my _servant-girl_," Mint hissed. She glared at Lettuce. "Go. At once. Do not return without my tea."

Lettuce inclined her head and quickly made herself scarce. Mint rounded on Ichigo, eyes glittering darkly.

"I must admit," she began, "I have always known of your recklessness. But never did I expect for you to so _publicly _humiliate me and scorn the Aizawa name!"

"I beg your pardon," Ichigo said, blinking in astonishment. "Why, Mint, whatever are you on about?"

Mint laughed humourlessly, crossing to the window. "Don't toy with me. I can barely stand to look at you." She stared coldly through the lace, hands clenched behind her back.

Ichigo, very confused, said nothing, gazing cluelessly at her friend's turned back. What on earth could have upset her this much? She couldn't remember doing anything to offend her friend. Unless… Oh no… perhaps she _had _seen them at the party, after all… Ichigo's heart thudded hard in her ears. Her stomach twisted.

Suddenly, Mint spun around again, eyes blazing.

"I have heard the oddest whispers all afternoon," she said, and Ichigo could see in her eyes that she knew. She knew they had been there.

"Mint, I–"

"Acquaintances of mine swore they had spotted you," Mint continued, raising her voice to talk over her. "I laughed and replied that it simply _couldn't _be possible – why, you had told me yourself not several hours earlier that you wouldn't be attending! And yet rumours persisted. Oh no, Ichigo was, in fact, present, and in the company of a mysterious girl nobody had ever met."

Mint's eyes were black with rage. She was like a deadly viper, poised to strike. Ichigo tried not to cower where she sat.

"A girl by the name of 'Lime'." Mint's voice was quiet – a dangerous purr. "With lovely blue eyes and hair flowing like silk. Tell me, dear friend. Who was your mysterious acquaintance? Many a curious eyebrow was raised, mine own included. Do tell."

Ichigo sat helpless. Mint's face was hard and cold with fury.

"I'm sorry," Ichigo said. "We never intended to insult _nor _disgrace you, Mint–"

Mint dropped the façade. "_What was she doing in your company_?"

"I simply thought–"

"She is my _servant-girl_, Ichigo!" Mint shrieked. "She is _under my employment_! Did you not think that word would spread of her attendance? Of _course _others would be intrigued by her! Even Baron Kagakusha asked of her! _Baron Kagakusha_! I felt I might just _die_! And now the whole city is whispering that she is _my_ guest! Wondering who she is! Where she has come from! Speculating her lineage and nobility! Her _nobility_! Why, the silly child is no less noble than dirt on the street!"

"Stop that!" Ichigo cried, shooting up from the bed. "Don't speak of her in such a manner!"

Mint, shocked, pressed one small hand to her handsome breast. "You will speak for her?"

Ichigo's face reddened quickly with anger. "Lettuce may be under your employment, but that makes her no less human than you or I. She is a simply lovely girl, but of course you would fail to see that with your eyes so narrowly focused!"

"I cannot believe my ears!" Mint gasped. "You would speak for a _servant_?"

"I will speak for my _friend_," Ichigo replied, lifting her chin. In several quick strides Mint had crossed the room, and she brought her gloved hand across Ichigo's face with such suddenness that the wind was knocked from her. She pressed her hand to her stinging cheek, turning wide eyes to Mint, whose chest was heaving slightly with rage. Mint looked away, her eyes burning – perhaps with shame – and clasped the hand that had struck Ichigo.

"I should turn her out," she fumed.

"Do not!" Ichigo exclaimed. "She has made no offense! I am to blame; I convinced her to accompany me. It is I who is wicked, not poor Lettuce. She would never think to insult you!"

"Then she shall remain in _your _care," Mint snapped, "for I do not wish to lay eyes upon her. Nor you," she added spitefully, crossing to the door. "Do not attempt to speak with me; I shall turn you away."

"Very well," Ichigo called after her. "Then I shall not seek your company!"

"Good then!" Mint yelled, and slammed the door behind her.

~S2~

The following morning dawned bright and clear, but did little to improve Ichigo's dark mood. Dinner the previous evening had been strained and uncomfortable; both girls were stonily silent as they quietly ate their meals at opposite ends of the long mahogany dining table. Ichigo had eaten breakfast in her bedroom this morning, and hadn't even seen Mint yet, though she doubted this was to her misfortune.

She didn't attend class, and no-one came looking for her. Instead, she wandered the house, exploring. She poked her nose into many rooms she'd never before laid eyes upon, discovering sitting rooms, libraries, studies – even an observatory, right at the top near Mint's room, with an expensive-looking brass telescope set up by a large arched window.

Whenever she crossed paths with Lettuce, the servant-girl blushed and scurried away, determinedly avoiding eye contact. It was this, more than anything, that bothered Ichigo most. She passed the time by daydreaming romantic possibilities with certain amber-eyed young suitors, leaning her arms against the windowsill and dozing lazily with her face turned to the sun.

It was Lettuce's soft, hurried footfalls some time later that broke her from her trance.

"Miss Ichigo!" she gasped, blue eyes curious and surprised. "A visitor has arrived for you."

Ichigo sat up quickly, grinning. "It's the one I spoke of, isn't it?"

Lettuce nodded, eyes wide. Ichigo squealed with excitement. "I'll receive him in the parlour. Please fetch us some tea, Lettuce. But don't hasten; finish whatever chore you are doing first."

Lettuce bowed her head and disappeared. Ichigo, still smiling, flew happily down the staircase, nervously flattening the creases in her skirt. _Gosh_, she thought suddenly,_ I hope my hair isn't a frightful mess_. She frantically batted at her fringe, then gave up. Taking a deep, steadying breath, she advanced as calmly as possible down the hall and into the parlour.

Masaya Aoyama looked up smiling. Her heart skipped several beats in her chest.

He was sitting on the sofa in a dashing charcoal waistcoat, his fingers curled around the lip of the smart top hat in his lap, one leg folded across the other. He rose at her entrance, coming forward with an almost uncertain smile.

"I hope I am not too late."

"Of course not!" Ichigo beamed. "You are utterly perfect."

The moment the words were out she wished she could suck them back in again. She stifled a small gasp, praying he hadn't taken her for the outrageously infatuated girl she was, her cheeks flaming red. She'd thought of him all night and most of the day, and now that he was here she felt unreasonably warm and happy, as though he were her personal sun and had just appeared from behind the gloomiest of clouds.

"Shall we?" He offered her one arm with a soft smile, which she gladly accepted.

They set off.

It was a beautiful afternoon. Ichigo couldn't decide which was more brilliant: her mood or the flawless weather. The sun winked from behind wispy white clouds, the air was tasty on her lips. The scents of summer seemed so much more delicious today. Popcorn and toffee apple drifted by on a breeze, and she lifted her nose to the air, inhaling deeply.

Masaya laughed lightly. "Shall we get some?"

He bought her a small paper bag from a nearby stand. Ichigo munched contentedly on a handful of soft, buttery popcorn as he led her around Central Park. All the while he chatted to her, asking her questions about herself – what were her interests? What was her favourite kind of food? Did she like literature? – her arm remained locked with his, and she was painfully conscious of the warmth that radiated from him. She was very comfortable in his presence, and enjoyed his company immensely.

He'd gone away to study, she learned. To learn more about the vegetation in foreign lands. It was his passion, he told her, to nurture and protect their beautiful environment; he was studying to be a botanist. She smiled up at him, her face glowing. Naturally, he would respect the world around them, perhaps more than he respected humanity itself. She found she expected no less of him, though she hardly knew him properly. He was so pure, and so good, that it almost didn't seem real. He was simply perfect.

To her adoring ears, his voice was softer and sweeter than the gentlest piece of music, richer and smoother than melted chocolate. She loved listening to him speak, and could hardly keep from gazing up at his handsome face when he laughed. She had to remind herself to look away every so often. She didn't want to alarm him. If he thought her strange or intense, however, he didn't show it. His laugh sent little thrills through her; she felt like she'd won a small prize every time she heard it, like it was a tiny, personal reward. She made it her goal to hear it as much as possible.

At last, however, the sun began to wane and slip slowly towards the horizon, and – rather regretfully – Ichigo admitted it was growing late, and they turned back to wander home. At the doorstep, Ichigo turned with a most forlorn expression, which he caught and laughed at.

"I should worry at such a frown," Masaya said, his eyes crinkling as he smiled, shining lovely, warm amber. "What ails you, fair lady?"

Ichigo was so rapt at this term of endearment that her misery at their prospective parting vanished and was replaced with a brilliant smile with such astonishing speed that he blinked in surprise.

"I had a most lovely time," Ichigo gushed, wishing very much to wrap her arms around his waist and inhale his scent, so as not to forget it. Instead, she simply smiled and smiled and smiled at him. "I must thank you for your visit this afternoon."

"The pleasure is all mine," he assured her, his lips curving upward in his most adorable smile. Her heart melted. "I must admit, I was a trifle worried you might find me a terrible bore." He laughed, a slightly uneasy sound, fringed with faint, restrained anxiousness.

"Oh," Ichigo said, pressing one hand to her chest in surprise. "Good heavens, no. I find you _most _fascinating company indeed."

His smile now was obviously pleased. "I am rather relieved," he confessed. Then he glanced at his smart pocket watch. "I shan't keep you longer. I'm afraid you'll forfeit your tea because of me. Please give my regards to Miss Aizawa."

"I will," Ichigo replied, dismay settling in once more. They looked at each other for a moment, then, with cheeks burning red and eyes downcast, Ichigo blurted, with a baldness most frowned upon by upper class society, "I would rather not be leaving your company."

Masaya chuckled and took one of her hands in his, drawing it to his mouth. He placed a gentle kiss upon it, his warm lips lightly brushing her skin and sending little shivers down her spine. How, Ichigo pondered with thoughts light and giddy, had she managed to find herself in the company of such a charming, _wonderful_ man? It seemed too good to be true, like she would wake up in a few moments to discover it had all simply been a wonderful dream.

Her heart thudded sharply; it didn't like that idea at all.

"I'm afraid we must part now," Masaya said softly, gazing up at her on the top step. "I hope I am fortunate enough to be graced with your company again."

He swept his top hat onto his head and, with one last lingering look at her, walked away up the street. Ichigo sagged against the doorframe, feeling like her legs weren't quite stable enough to support her, and watched him disappear into the fading afternoon.

"I hope so, too," she murmured quietly.

~S2~

Incidentally, Ichigo was not at all, in fact, late for dinner. She had rather been hoping to miss it altogether, actually, considering evening meals (or any meals, for that matter) had been rather strained of late. Tonight's was, unfortunately, no different.

Ichigo and Mint sat at opposite ends of the long table, the clinking of cutlery against china plates the only sound to break the terribly sharp silence. Ichigo concentrated on consuming her pork as quickly and quietly as possible so she could escape the awkwardness to her bedroom and gossip with Lettuce about her afternoon stroll.

At last, Mint took a sip of her cranberry juice and said, in a carefully dispassionate voice, "We've been invited to tea."

"We have?" Ichigo asked, rather dumbly. Mint didn't bother looking up or even commenting snidely, as she normally might have. She swirled her juice around her crystal glass.

"Yes. To-morrow evening."

Ichigo sat silently for a moment, wondering what to say. She was curious, of course, but didn't particularly feel like pushing at Mint to get her to talk. She had as little desire to converse with her usually-but-not-at-this-present-moment friend as Mint did.

"Whatever for?" she asked eventually. It came out quite stiffly.

"Miss Fujiwara is in town," Mint said with obviously restrained excitement. Ichigo had watched her idolise the elder teen for a good few years now. She was rather impressed that Mint was able to let her irritation with Ichigo overpower her elation at this news. Ichigo had heard that Zakuro Fujiwara was undeniably beautiful – simply flawless and elegant beyond understanding – and that her rocketing career as a model meant she spent little time in New York, travelling instead to exotic places of high fashion, like Paris and Venice, to model the latest designs. Mint continued, "She is hosting a dinner, but is refusing to divulge the reason for such an event. It's all rather mysterious."

"I would imagine so," Ichigo replied coolly. "I would be delighted to attend. Now, please excuse me." She pushed out her high-backed mahogany chair and rose with as much gracefulness as she could manage, still somehow managing to bump the table with her hip and almost upend her crystal glass. Then she left Mint in the dining room and went in search of Lettuce.

~S2~

The dinner party was being hosted at Miss Fujiwara's estate; a grand square of land boasting an impressive, intricately dressed manor, tucked away behind an imposing wall of red brick. The gates, which swung open noisily to permit the Aizawa coach entrance, were twisted black wrought-iron with fleur-de-lis tips. The gardens were very carefully manicured, Ichigo thought, peering across them with strained eyes in the last, fading light of the evening.

Her dress tonight was rose pink chiffon with loose off-the-shoulder draping sleeves and silk roses at the neckline. Her waist cinched neatly, and her soft skirts flowed out from her hips. Little ribbons of champagne satin had been braided carefully into her ruby tresses. Across from her, Mint was stiff and silent, looking rather like a snow-skinned princess in her lovely gown of navy silk with its huge black bow at the waist. Her fingers, encased in black satin evening gloves, drummed impatiently against the cushioned seat.

The carriage came to a stop and the coachman jumped down to help them to the ground. An usher hurried forward to guide them up the wide stairs and through the grand entrance, where their names were called from a thick sheet of parchment, and, having had their presence formally announced, they were shown to the dining hall.

It was a large room of expensive grandeur, with a huge table as the main feature, garbed white and decorated with large floral arrangements and golden candleholders. The chairs were high-backed polished oak, with white slips and big lavender silk bows. Ichigo lost count trying to discern how many the table seated, and hastened to follow Mint as she drifted lightly along, searching for their name cards. The seating arrangements were boy-girl, Ichigo noted, alarmed that she might be separated from Mint and seated amongst a group of socialites she'd never met. She was relieved when she found that Mint was the next girl down from her. Even if they weren't on speaking terms, it was more comforting knowing she was nearby and that they might share the same conversations.

Her fleeting relief instantly passed, however, when she glanced at the name card between them.

_Kish Ranzatsu_

Ichigo fumed silently. How was she supposed to sit through an entire evening with _him _by her side? Gosh, it would be _insufferable. _But it wasn't as though she were in any position to do anything about it. She would just have to find a way to somehow make it through the dinner. With a sigh for what was to come, Ichigo reluctantly pulled out her seat and dropped into it in a rather unladylike manner, earning herself a few disapproving glances from several of the more well-mannered women. She ignored them, bemoaning her misfortune and wishing it had been Mr. Aoyama she'd been seated beside instead.

"If you continue to slouch so and pout all evening, I daresay many men present are unlikely to find you very attractive," a lazy voice commented from behind her. The chair to her right was pulled out smoothly and, to her dismay and irritation, a man she recognised sat down. He barely glanced at her, his piercing blue eyes expressionless, his blonde hair bright underneath the chandelier. He was dressed in a smart, fitted black suit with a crisp white shirt and off-white bow tie.

"You must be kidding," Ichigo murmured to herself, half-groaning. She felt like banging her head against her salad plate in despair. Mint shot her a sharp, dangerous look from two seats down, her back prim and straight, her hands folded purposefully in her lap as her neighbour engaged her in conversation.

"I beg your pardon," the blonde man said coldly without looking at her, nodding in greeting to a man across the table, and reaching to kiss the hand of the woman on his right.

Ichigo refused to reply, subtly shifting her shoulder to block him out and turn away, and pretending she wasn't offended that he deliberately hadn't kissed her hand in polite greeting. Of the two of them, she was starting to think she preferred Kish.

The man in question made an entrance a few moments later, looking unarguably dashing in his form-fitting jet black dinner jacket and perfect black bow tie. He walked confidently and smoothly, reminding her of honey dripping slowly from a spoon, stopping every few paces to greet somebody or kiss a lady's gloved hand. Ichigo watched with a small sneer of distaste curling her lip as the young ladies practically _flocked _to him, smiling radiantly, curtseying coquettishly and batting their artificially lengthened eyelashes invitingly. He greeted them all with the same charming smile and flashing golden eyes.

Ichigo dragged her eyes away, remembering his arrogant smile, and wondered if perhaps he _wouldn't_ be better company than the blonde man, after all. They were decidedly as bad as each other.

"My, my," Kish purred lightly as he sank into the seat beside her. "This is a rather pleasant arrangement, wouldn't you agree?"

"I suppose," Ichigo replied noncommittally, gazing with a carefully uninterested expression at the closest porcelain pot of lilies. "It _is _rather a relief to know somebody on the table."

Kish reached down and lifted his chair slightly to pull it further under the table, subtly moving himself rather closer to Ichigo than she felt necessary. His expression gave nothing away, however, so she couldn't be sure if it had been deliberate, or just a misjudgement of distance. She chose to say nothing. The next moment, however, he had returned his arms to the table, and one hand brushed delicately along her arm to her wrist.

"My offer still stands, kitten," he murmured quietly in her ear. To her irritation, little shivers raced all the way down her spine, tingling against her suddenly sensitive skin. "You're most welcome to know me better, if you so desire it." His voice whispered and melted temptingly around 'desire'. Ichigo stiffened and he chuckled softly, his breath brushing the back of her neck. He artfully moved away again, leaving her strangely cold in her seat.

Kish leaned against one elbow, casually resting his cheek against his curled fingers, and surveyed her with an irritatingly knowing expression; one of congenial playfulness and smouldering wickedness. She drew herself up straighter, trying to pretend her cheeks weren't suddenly flushed, and focused on neatening her silverware carefully. Beside her, Kish grinned to himself, before turning to greet Mint with a rather theatrical kiss to the hand she offered.

"Hello, darling," she engaged with a slow wink, bestowing upon her good friend an appraising smile and promptly engaging him in conversation, utterly unaware of the favour she'd just done Ichigo in saving her from further discomfort. With a little sigh, Ichigo relaxed in her seat and began recovering her composure.

Of course, that happened to be precisely when the man of her dreams – quite literally – entered the room, and her poise was ruined all over again. Her breath caught in her throat; her heart shuddered violently and stopped for a moment, before starting up again with a painfully fast new tempo. Masaya's hair was brushed back casually from his forehead, but several stubborn locks were falling into his big brown eyes. He somehow looked so much more gorgeous in his tailored dinner tuxedo than every other man in the room, and Ichigo longed for the scent that she'd already forgotten to be familiar with her.

She sat up straight and elongated her neck like an eager child, as though by making herself several inches taller she might somehow be much more noticeable and he might spy her before anything else, and watched him smile warmly, shaking hands with men and politely kissing the hands of women as he was greeted and introduced. No shameless flirting; merely perfect manners and utmost respectfulness. He was so wonderful.

Ichigo watched him approach the table, her nerves winding up like a tight coil. She twisted her hands anxiously in her lap, praying he would be seated close to her. To her vague disappointment, he did not stop to occupy the seat opposite her, but continued along several seats before his eyes flashed with recognition and he reached for the little name card. Ichigo watched him delicately finger the little gold-lined piece of parchment, and suddenly desired the possession of it, as though by holding his tiny name in her fingers she might somehow be closer to him.

As Masaya pulled his chair out, he looked up, his gentle gaze sweeping the table quickly, and his eyes caught hers, settling for a moment that was altogether far too brief, as far as she was concerned. He sent her a smile that held a gentle fondness that she simply _knew_ was for her only, and her answering smile was beyond radiant. Then his gaze snapped away as his neighbour commanded his attention, and he didn't glance her way again for some time.

Her gaze released, Ichigo settled back in her chair, her heart thrumming happily, feeling suddenly confident that enduring rest of the evening in the company of such troublesome neighbours wouldn't nearly be as difficult as she'd once thought. Not at all.

~S2~

By the time the entrée of delicious French onion broth was served, the many gathered guests were speculating the whereabouts of their host in politely hushed voices. Ichigo sipped the soup from her silver spoon as carefully and gracefully as possible, among the most confused as to why their dinner was without a host. It was most obscene for one to leave their guests unattended for the shortest of periods, let alone an entire four-course meal. She imagined the papers tomorrow would be filled with scandalised editorials all about a society offended by its most talked-about personality. Such an evening would doubtless _critically_ chafe her reputation.

"This is most peculiar," Kish's voice said conversationally from beside her, and she warily allowed him her attention. His expression was one of mixed curiosity and obvious delight. Mint had once told Ichigo that there would never exist a man more adoring of a good scandal than Kish. She was starting to wonder if perhaps her friend hadn't been exaggerating, after all. Kish ladled up a spoonful of soup and paused to glance at her devilishly with luminous golden eyes. Ichigo glanced away, fighting the instant blush that rose to her cheeks, ignoring his arm pressing gently but determinedly against her own. It had been sitting there persistently since the appetisers had been served.

"To what are you referring?" she asked, determined not to let him affect her. "That our dinner is still without its host, or that I have yet to relocate my seat?"

She glanced back and caught him gazing at her with an expression of slowly simmering – but rather daringly open for the dinner table, she thought – desire, which did little for her jittery heart or her blazing cheeks, and in turn made him, to her immense irritation, rather desirable himself. Several of his deep jade locks had tumbled into his face in a manner that was most tempting to her itching fingers, and his eyes were dark and rich as smouldering honey. He was a devil in angel costume, and Ichigo couldn't decide if she loathed or enjoyed his eyes touching her skin. She would prefer it be the former, and constructed a glowing image of the lovely Mr. Aoyama in her imagination. Instantly, Kish the charmer seemed quite less charming.

"Well," Kish purred, sitting forward in his seat and entwining his long, pale fingers, "I _was_, actually, referring to our most curiously absent celebutante. But this, I believe, is _much_ more enticing." His alluring smirk deepened. Ichigo fought the urge to scowl at him, knowing that, if she did, it would probably be criticised in tomorrow's society column as poor etiquette. Instead she internally berated the part of herself that wasn't clever enough to banter with others only in her mind. One of these days her sharp tongue, coupled with the short temper that her mother often joked was a result of the fiery shade of her hair, would get her into trouble.

"Let us discuss something trivial," Ichigo said firmly, swirling her soup spoon around her bowl.

"Very well," Kish acceded congenially. "It's a rather fine evening we are experiencing, is it not?"

"Perhaps not quite so trivial as that," Ichigo replied dryly.

Kish's eyes twinkled. "Why don't you tell me that you cannot fight your attraction to me any longer, and have yet to shift your seat because you are secretly craving my attention?"

When Ichigo glared at him, there was fire in her eyes. Her lips pulled back from her teeth in a tiny, silent snarl. "Why don't you let it aside _for one moment_ and refrain from making my every lunch and dinner party an utter misery?"

"Come now," Kish replied, pouting playfully. "I rather think that's a little dramatic, don't you? It seems to me this evening is quite a few things, but _miserable _isn't a word that floats to mind."

He trailed two silk-soft fingertips lightly against the back of her hand, and Ichigo lost herself in the startlingly pleasant sensation for a few dazed moments before she found her sense and ripped her hand away as subtly as possible, trying not to cause a scene. She clasped them together firmly in her lap, shooting her flirtatious companion an irritable glower. He was smiling slowly at her with dangerous confidence and effortless charm.

"Explain to me how then, if my presence distresses you as much as you claim, you come to have not left it yet," he murmured silkily, that knowing smirk back in place.

Face burning with restrained anger at his teasing, Ichigo snapped childishly (and rather loudly, so the offending man at her back could hear), "Because I have rather an insufferable neighbour and very little desire to converse with him. Enduring your company is far less a chore." Then she stuck her nose in the air and glared haughtily at the chandelier. Beside her, Kish laughed in surprise.

"You are a most spirited young lady," he observed, taking an amused sip of mulled wine from his expensive crystal glass. "I pity the poor fellow your vengeful wrath, whatever offense he committed."

The tall doors, which had been shut as the appetisers were served, were abruptly thrown open, and all conversation quickly ceased as every set of eyes in the room turned curiously to look. A tall, decidedly elegant man strode smoothly into the room, his shiny black shoes squeaking a little against the polished marble floor. He was dashing in his deep grey dinner jacket, and his hair was long and soft-looking, tied back loosely to trail down his back between his shoulder blades.

"Well, well," Kish murmured softly, but Ichigo barely caught it; she wasn't listening to him.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the newcomer greeted, in an inoffensive, friendly voice that matched the warmth in his eyes, "Esteemed guests. I apologise most sincerely for your having to wait this evening, and am most grateful for your patience. It is with utter delight that I welcome your presence this evening, and without further pretext that I present to you the ever-lovely Miss Zakuro Fujiwara."

There was a polite, eager scattering of applause as their long-awaited host – who somehow managed to seem more like a distinguished guest of honour – made her majestic entrance. Ichigo's breath caught as she inhaled sharply. The creature drifting across the floor was of exquisite, unmatched beauty. She was tall and slender, with long ivory arms and legs that seemed to stretch endlessly before they met the floor. Her waist was impossibly neat and tiny, her features painfully delicate; large, wide eyes a most lovely shade of deep blue – the colour of midnight – emphasised by long, thick black lashes and high, arched pencil-brows; her mouth a small round plum, with a bee-stung bottom lip painted deep, dusky pink. Her long, thick tresses of silken blackberry-purple were looped and pinned in a stunning, elegant heap, and her coveted figure was complimented by a sleeveless chiffon gown of lilac that accentuated her long, graceful neck and slender, snowy shoulders, laced with ribbons down the sides of her stiff corset and decorated with tiny, glittering crystals. The skirts whispered softly as she walked, brushing the marble in divine folds that made a satisfying _swishing _sound with each precisely placed step. Like every other female present at the table, Ichigo felt her stomach twist with envy.

"Welcome, guests," Zakuro said, in a voice calm and smooth like a gentle, trickling stream. "It is my pleasure to share my home with you to-night. If anything can be done to make your evening more comfortable, pleasure be sure to speak to any of the staff and your request will be seen to promptly."

The conversations began to escalade as the pair moved to take their places at the table. Ichigo craned her neck – like so many others – to better see them, and turned with curious eyes filled with a desire for gossip.

"Mint," she whispered, leaning across Kish to clasp her friend's wrist. Mint turned away from her conversation with an irritated frown, annoyed at being so abruptly interrupted. "Who is that?"

"Who is _who, _darling?" Mint replied through teeth that seemed to be clenched, with heavy sarcasm on the 'darling'.

"The man in Miss Fujiwara's company," Ichigo pressed, remembering not to point, as it would most _definitely _appear in tomorrow's paper if she did.

"That's Mr. Keiichiro Akasaka," Mint replied shortly, in a tone that implied this was common knowledge and that Ichigo was impudent for not knowing. Ichigo sat back in her seat, simultaneously ignoring Mint's shameless mocking and Kish's unmasked delighted smirk at her having leaned across his lap. Mint had told her of Mr. Akasaka; she had heard his name arise several times in conversation, and picked her brains now for the few skerricks of information she'd retained about him. He was from an old family whose esteem in New York society stretched back generations, but was most renowned for saving the family name several years prior when it became known that they were going slowly bankrupt. He'd restored the family fortune by making a name for himself through a careful study and experimentation in hospitality, creating the finest of delicacies to tempt the taste buds, and was renowned now not only for his amicable charm and old-name status in society, but also for his skills as an esteemed chef and successful businessman.

And, of course, Mint had added, he was New York's most eligible bachelor. For not only was he exceedingly wealthy, he was dashingly handsome and _exuded _charm, and his placid temperament, gentle smile and kind heart made him popular company for society's young ladies.

"He is unbelievably marriageable," Mint had gossiped. When asked by Ichigo why Mint didn't pursue his interest herself, Mint had sniffed and shrugged one shoulder haughtily. "I find him rather a bore, myself. Simply_ too_ nice, you know?"

Ichigo rather _didn't _know, for she couldn't understand how _any _man could be 'too nice' as a husband, but from what Ichigo could tell, Mint had experienced a lot more in the field of romance than Ichigo in her sixteen years of life, and was probably correct – something Ichigo would rarely admit in her presence.

Mint had added hastily, with a snobbish, offhanded air, "But if I so desired, I'm sure I would suffer no misfortune in making him fall in love with me."

It was as the roasted duck main course was being served that Ichigo's attention was captivated by something that was mentioned by somebody across the table. A lady she didn't recognise had cleared her throat deliberately, and was leaning forward a little, looking beadily at Mint.

"Miss Aizawa," she said, her eyes keen for gossip, "wherever is your darling Miss Lime this evening? I heard Miss Fujiwara had a spare place set aside for her, but she is quite absent!"

"Oh," Mint said, looking awfully and obviously stunned. The colour drained sharply from her cheeks. She shot a quick, scathing look in Ichigo's direction, but Ichigo could merely sit still and quiet, holding her breath and waiting to see how her friend would talk her way out of the predicament. "Yes, well… I'm afraid my dear friend–" Her lips soured around 'dear' "–is unable to attend this evening, as she has… you see, she…"

"She's rather ill," Ichigo blurted suddenly, a little too loudly, and several people tuned their attention to the conversation. Ichigo nodded quickly, forcing her expression into one of sad sympathy. "Yes. She was taken by a rather fierce head-cold after Miss Fong's garden party, I'm very sorry to say."

"Oh," the lady simpered, nodding and looking anything but sincere. "That is _most _unfortunate."

"Yes," Ichigo agreed again, feeling and sounding rather dumb.

"She seems to be recovering quite well," Mint added, coming to her rescue. "We are quite sure it's nothing terribly alarming."

"Oh, what a relief," the lady replied, clapping her hands together once. "It will be so lovely to see her about again; I'm afraid we're all rather terrible gossips. I know I, for one, was so looking forward to acquainting myself better with the darling child this evening."

Mint sat frozen like a statue in her seat, her smile stiff and – only slightly – unconvincing.

"I heard a rumour that Miss Fujiwara is inviting several esteemed guests away on a private retreat," another woman gushed, her ridiculously decorated eyes lit up with excitement. "It's _most _mysterious. Wouldn't that be a simply perfect opportunity to introduce darling Miss… Oh, my, I'm afraid her surname has rather escaped my memory!" She shot Mint an apologetic look, and Mint, in turn, forwarded a look to Ichigo, raising one eyebrow pointedly and looking quietly smug as the redhead suddenly felt the pressure of at least half a dozen expectant faces.

"O-Odayaka," she stammered after only a short, tense pause. It was the surname of a friend back home. She forced a smile. "Lime Odayaka."

"And who _is _she?" the first woman asked eagerly, but the girls were spared the awkward interrogation that was sure to follow by several sharp, clear rings of a wine glass being tapped for attention.

Silence immediately reigned, and all attention was obediently turned to the end of the table, where Keiichiro Akasaka had risen from his seat and now stood at the table's head, gazing out serenely across the other guests.

"Most esteemed ladies and gentlemen," he began with a wide smile, "your presence this evening is most appreciated, and I thank you most humbly for attending to-night." Here, Ichigo shot Mint a small, confused look. Suddenly, she was quite unsure whether Miss Fujiwara was their host after all, or if it wasn't, in fact, Mr. Akasaka. Mint's expression seemed to indicate that she could provide no helpful answer. The tall man was continuing, and Ichigo turned back quickly. "It is now, with utmost delight, that I will reward your patience with an announcement that pleases me to no end. To-night you are gathered here to celebrate the union of the houses of Fujiwara and Akasaka, and I am certain you will all agree that Miss Fujiwara will make a most beautiful bride."

With a warm, charming smile, Keiichiro reached for his wine glass, and he raised it, his gentle gaze focused upon Zakuro, who was sitting quietly and wearing a lovely soft smile, ignoring the hushed whispers of shock and amazement racing along the table.

"To the future Mrs. Keiichiro Akasaka," Keiichiro said, raising his voice just slightly to be heard above the gossip, "My lovely fiancé."

Ichigo glanced around at her neighbours, wondering if she was the only one surprised by this publication, but the shock on everybody's faces spoke of how unexpected this arrangement really was. Mint's face was frozen in an expression of astonishment that the redhead might have expected if she'd just been told there was no more royal blue silk in the dressmaker's store. Beside her, the irritating blonde man gave a low sigh and reached rather reluctantly for his glass. Others around him – Ichigo included – hastily mimicked, and suddenly the air was thick with raised glasses all the way down the table.

"To Mr. Akasaka and Miss Fujiwara!" Fifty-odd voices chimed in unison, and Ichigo took a small sip of fragrant red wine, knowing that she need not fret about her manners appearing in tomorrow's papers anymore.

* * *

**September 5, 2010.**

**A/N: **First off, I MUST apologise for the lateness of this update. Let me just say that there was a trifle of confusion in the last month (a dear friend of mine went away, and I didn't know that, and was waiting for her OK before I posted this chapter XD;;), which was the cause for the delay. I'm sorry you all had to wait! Hopefully you enjoyed it enough to make up for it!

Some quick explanations!

Ranzatsu, here, means 'promiscuous'. Love it. S2

Odayaka, also, means 'gentle'. :)

Sorry to the R/I shippers (like myself ;P). There's not much fluff for those two at the moment - trust me, there's some coming! Sit tight :) When it does appear, it will be worth the wait XD I suppose the same goes for the K/I shippers, though Kish is impacting Ichigo quite considerably at the moment. But will she be able to resist him, or will he crack her? ;)

**Shout outs** to:

**- Just Cy**

**- Joy Johnson**

**- Essence of Gold**

**- Kyasarin Freakload** (Haha! I can't believe you're reading this one, too! :P)

and

**- Ally Marton**

... for all your lovely reviews. And a huge extra big thanks with lots of hugs and kisses to **Fireflies Glow**, who leaves the most enormous and love-filled reviews of anybody I know. I can't believe you put so much effort into pulling apart a chapter and giving such careful feedback. I love you to infinity (and beyond! XD), Bunny! xoxo

The next chapter should be up soon :) Feedback is welcomed and appreciated!

Love,

**Cherrie xx**


	4. Quatre

**Chiffon Kisses and Porcelain Smiles**

**~ Quatre ~ **

* * *

"Well this is a fine mess!"

Ichigo balled her fists in her skirts and lifted them as she hurried up the stairs after Mint, who was storming angrily. Ichigo's attempts to unobstruct her feet were in vain; several seconds later her foot caught in her hem and she stumbled with a shriek, grabbing the handrail to save herself from what would have been most ungraceful face-plant.

Mint threw a sneer over her shoulder. "I might pity your clumsiness if it weren't so entertaining."

"Must you be so unkind?" Ichigo snapped, knowing the wiser move would have been to remain silent.

"At present, darling, I don't believe you quite deserve much kindness," Mint replied sniffily. She reached the first floor landing, where Lettuce was quietly cleaning the gilded mirror in the hallway. The shy girl looked up an unfortunate second too late and caught the full brunt of Mint's scathing glare of hatred before she scuttled fearfully for another room.

"Ease up on her," Ichigo scolded. "She's done naught but repent since the garden party, and anyway, this troublesome predicament is entirely _my _fault – or perhaps it has escaped your memory?"

"On the contrary, my memory is rather sharp," Mint scowled.

"Well, then, I'm sure you must see, as I do, that the only option is to play this game to the end," Ichigo replied, fluffing her skirts from her stumble. "We have no choice but to take her with us and present her to society, else you'll no doubt be scrutinized by critical eyes and sharp tongues for your lack of graciousness toward your guests."

"I am quite aware what the papers will say about me," Mint snapped hotly, dark eyes glittering furiously. "When this mess is righted, Ichigo, I expect to never see you upon my doorstep again. And the little wretch will have to go, too. It is simply too high a risk keeping her in my employment. Why, she would be immediately recognised in the street! Oh, you have made this such an inconvenience for me! The very moment we are out of the hot water I will turn her out."

"Then she will come with me," Ichigo said shortly, having very little patience to put up with Mint's spoiled tantrums right now. "After all, if I'm never to return, it will hardly pose a threat, will it?"

"Good. Then I leave her in your responsibility," Mint shot back, pushing two of three little white envelopes firmly against Ichigo's chest. The redhead brushed past the heiress, making no effort to avoid bumping her shoulder or even apologise for it. Glaring after her, Mint whipped around and stormed back downstairs to holler at the kitchen-hand to prepare her a pot of tea.

~S2~

Lettuce sank down on the neatly made bed, her soft mist-blue eyes widening hugely as she read. Ichigo waited patiently, keeping carefully silent so her gentle-natured companion could process the reality of the beautifully hand-written, cordial invitation to the wedding of Keiichiro Akasaka and Zakuro Fujiwara at Miss Fujiwara's private estate, Cherrywood Grove, in Yates, a most popular spot for summer vacationing in the Finger Lakes District. Each invitation was personally addressed, and Ichigo knew Lettuce would need to quickly grow used to the name of her alias – Lime Odayaka – and even more quickly _become_ her. But if she threw everything at the servant-girl too quickly, the poor thing might die of fright.

"I'm afraid I don't quite understand," Lettuce confessed after a few long moments.

"Well, you see," Ichigo began, "after the garden party, everybody has become rather intrigued by you. You were a rather popular topic of conversation at the engagement dinner." At this, Lettuce paled frighteningly. "So Mint and I created a name for you, and Miss Fujiwara invited you to her wedding." Lettuce squeaked. Ichigo glimpsed the instinct to bolt in her fearful blue eyes, and wrapped up the explanation, sinking down on the bed beside her shy friend and taking her delicate hands in her own. "Dear Lettuce. I _am _sorry for having dragged you into this mess. I do hope you can someday forgive me. But for now, you simply must come with us and pretend to be Lime. We have no other option. It will be only for a few days, I promise, and then everything will be normal again. Please help us, Lettuce."

Lettuce stared at her with enormous eyes filled with childlike uncertainty. She sucked in a gentle, shuddering breath, her shoulders tensing. "How could I refuse you? You have been so kind to me." Her eyes filmed over and she quickly averted her gaze. "But, oh, I am frightened." Her bottom lip trembled.

"As am I," Ichigo assured her. "But excited, too… Just think how luxurious these next few days will be! There will be music and dancing, delicious meals and fine gowns – why, everybody will wear their Sunday best the entire weekend! And – oh! – the romancing! Trust me, Lettuce, this will be a most delightful adventure!"

Lettuce looked up into her big, enthusiastic brown eyes, and couldn't help but smile. Her optimism was dangerously infectious.

"But what should happen if we are discovered?" she whispered.

Ichigo's expression dropped a little. "Well, Mint's name would most certainly be ruined."

"Oh, I couldn't!" Lettuce exclaimed in horror, paling again.

"Don't you see?" Ichigo pressed, taking up her hands again. "It would be ruined if were discovered, but if you don't come, we _most definitely_ will be – for not taking you. At least if you do come, there is a good chance nobody will ever be wise to the truth. For when all this is over, I am returning to Virginia, and you are to accompany me."

Lettuce's breath left her lips in a gush. "I am?"

"Yes," Ichigo confirmed. "Mint believes it would be too dangerous to keep you in New York. Someone would most certainly recognise you eventually." Ichigo bit her lip, hoping she wasn't frightening Lettuce too terribly. "Would that be alright with you? I'm awfully sorry you must leave your life here."

"Oh, no," Lettuce said quickly, blushing and shaking her head quickly. "I am grateful for your generosity. And…" she trailed off, reddening further. "May I share a secret with you?" She glanced at Ichigo tentatively.

"Of course," Ichigo replied, squeezing her soft little hands reassuringly. "You may tell me anything."

Lettuce glanced to the door, as if worried somebody might be eavesdropping, and lowered her voice to a mouse-like whisper. "I've never much liked it here."

Ichigo laughed merrily. "No, I can't imagine so. It is rather an awful home to serve."

Lettuce looked as though she'd committed an unspeakable crime. "Oh, I should never speak so lowly of Miss! I rather meant New York – this city is too big and daunting for a girl like myself. I'm always afraid I'll get lost one day, running errands."

Ichigo grinned at her. "Darling Lettuce, you _are _so very sweet!" With that she pulled her friend into an unexpected embrace. She released the startled girl and held her at arm's length, her brown eyes twinkling. "So you will help us? Please say you will – oh, _do_!"

Lettuce flashed a small, nervous smile. "Of course I will."

Ichigo jumped up, clapping her hands in delight. "Oh, good! Thank you! Now–" She took Lettuce's hands and pulled her to her feet "–we must hasten to the dressmaker! I have a fine amount of spending money, and you are in need of a wardrobe! You can have one of my dresses – choose whichever you fancy – but we must set off soon, or we may be too late."

She tugged Lettuce to her oak closet and threw the doors wide, ferreting hastily through the hangers. She examined many before pulling out a frilled cream cotton creation, striped pastel green, with lace at the neck and a green ribbon at the waist.

"Here," she declared, holding it up against Lettuce's slim frame. "I rather think it would suit you quite marvellously."

"Miss Ichigo, I couldn't possibly keep–"

"Nonsense! I have never worn it," Ichigo scoffed. "In fact," she added, sifting through the hangers once more. "You may keep the blue dress, too. And this one." She pulled it out. It was pastel green chiffon with champagne satin trimming, and Lettuce fell instantly in love with it. "Think of them not as hand-me-downs but as gifts. I've yet to wear any of them. Heaven knows they never leave my wardrobe!"

"Oh, I do wish there was a way I could repay your kindness," Lettuce murmured, feeling the soft material with her fingers. For a moment she looked about to cry.

"But you can," Ichigo chirped with a bright smile. "All I request is your friendship, and that you have _fun_ whilst we are away. Can you promise me that?"

Lettuce managed a little nod, still struggling to grasp her good fortune. Ichigo beamed. "Then your debt is repaid! Come now, dress quickly and let's be off. We have much to do this afternoon!"

~S2~

When the carriage jumbled to a stop on Fifth Avenue, it was Ichigo who leaped down first, excitement shining all over her face. She turned quickly, her skirts swishing around her, to wait for Lettuce, who poked her head nervously around the carriage door.

"Miss Ichigo…" She trailed off, her voice strangled, her eyes frightened.

"Come now, darling," Ichigo said, stepping closer to the wheel so passers-by wouldn't overhear. "What better a time to start than now? You have to grow used to your new name before we leave to-morrow." She raised her voice deliberately. "Percival, please assist Miss Lime down from her seat. We simply don't have all day to loiter."

Percival, Mint's coachman, obediently climbed down from his perch, coming around the side to where Ichigo stood. He glanced at her sharply and offered a hand for Lettuce to take. Ichigo nodded subtly at it and the shy girl took the coachman grasp as though learning to walk for the first time. She blushed furiously under his knowing, unimpressed expression, stumbling a little on shaky legs as she descended to the sidewalk.

"Please, Percival," Ichigo murmured, as he closed the carriage door. "Don't speak of our charade to anybody. I'll see to it that Mint increases your wage, in exchange for your confidence."

He turned and looked at her, then glanced at Lettuce, who was twisting her fingers together nervously. Then he sighed and nodded, somewhat reluctantly.

"Thank you," Ichigo whispered.

"Tread with care," Percival replied shortly. "It would be sad for a nice girl like her to be scorned from this. Playing games is cruel, Miss Ichigo… pardoning my impudence."

Ichigo reddened, and in a clipped tone, said, "Yes, well, if I had asked your opinion in the first place, it would not have been impudent of you, would it? Park the carriage if you please, Percival. We will be requiring transport home in a few hours."

She dismissed him with a wave of her hand, putting him in his place, and with a curt nod, he departed. She glared after him, resenting his distinct lesser respect for her. She was certain he would never dare speak to Mint in such a manner, but then, that was perhaps because he was wary that, if he did, she might turn him out on the spot. In fact, Ichigo hardly doubted she likely would.

"Miss Ichigo?" Lettuce's soft voice came from behind. Ichigo whirled again, all bright smiles once more. She looped their arms together and led the servant-girl toward one of her favourite tailors. "Now, recite your little spiel back to me, if you please."

"My name is Lime Odayaka," Lettuce murmured obediently. "My father made his riches in the oilfields in California. My mother passed this winter from a terrible illness. My father thought it healthy for me to spend some time with girls my own age, so he sent me to stay the summer with the daughter of his good friend, Mr. Aizawa."

"Good," Ichigo praised. "And if anyone should ask you of California, simply tell of its eternal warmth and the weakness of the New York sun in comparison, and nobody shall ever suspect you."

"Have you ever seen California?" Lettuce asked, as they stepped up into the doorway of the store.

"No," Ichigo admitted. "However my father does say it's rather warm. He travels there often on business. Now hush, and let me speak on your behalf. Oh! When you sit, tuck your skirt first and clasp your hands in your lap. Oh, and keep your back straight." She flashed a reassuring smile and pulled the glass door open. Lettuce couldn't help but think that the little merry tinkling was like the bells of doom ringing above her head. Feeling sick with nerves, she followed Ichigo into the dressmaker's.

"Good afternoon, Miss Ichigo," the dressmaker greeted, with familiar appraisal. She was a bustling middle-aged woman with wispy greying hair drawn into a severe bun, and pins stuck in spontaneous places all over her work apron. She pulled one from between her lips now as she marked the hem of her current client.

"Hello, Mrs. Yelland," Ichigo replied. "Isn't this just simply lovely weather? I do so like the summer."

The busy woman threw a quick glance out the wide shopfront. "Yes," she agreed. "It is rather pleasant. But who is your charming companion to-day?"

"Oh!" Ichigo gasped, feigning astonishment. "But you've yet to meet my dear friend! Oh, my manners have quite abandoned me! Why, this is Lime Odayaka. She's come to us from California and is a fellow guest of the Aizawa manor for the summer."

"Is that so?" Mrs. Yelland replied through a mouthful of pins. She gave Lettuce a quick once-over. The girl she was fitting had turned upon her stool, and was staring at the servant-girl with open curiosity. No doubt she would leave the shop and immediately gossip with her best girlfriends over tea and scones. Ichigo smiled to herself. What better a way to spread their little story? This way, everybody would already know of 'Lime' before they even met her, and there would be less awkward interrogation over the coming few days.

"Yes," Ichigo replied, bestowing upon Lettuce a bright, fond smile and lacing their fingers together. They made quite a pretty sight, the two young ladies perched delicately on the satin loveseat. Ichigo turned back to Mrs. Yelland. "I'm afraid she's been rather ill the past few days, however. It was most unfortunate that she was bed-ridden for Miss Fujiwara's engagement dinner."

And now, she knew, all conversation would divert from 'Lime' and onto much more interesting gossip.

"I _do _wish I'd been able to attend," the girl on the stool sighed regretfully – almost obediently. "I heard it was a simply charming affair."

"Oh, it rather was," Ichigo agreed, knowing that the girl probably hadn't even been invited. After all, _nobody _would dare miss a party hosted by _Zakuro Fujiwara. _It simply wasn't done. She smiled widely and began to recount the events of the grand evening. And, just like clockwork, Lettuce's integration into society was so very easily accomplished. Ichigo gave her friend's hand a little squeeze of reassurance. The most difficult part of their challenge had passed.

Mrs. Yelland finished shortly with the girl on the stool and then it was their turn.

"And what would you like me to fashion to-day?" she asked Ichigo, who grinned.

"Actually, you will be working to-day with Miss Lime," she replied. "I have quite enough dresses already, and the poor thing could only bring so many with her on her journey. I'm afraid her closet is quite inappropriate for such festivities as Miss Fujiwara's wedding."

"I'm of the firm mind that a girl can never have quite enough gowns, Miss Ichigo," Mrs. Yelland said with a little twinkle in her sharp eye. "Come, dear," she gestured to Lettuce, who rose shakily. Ichigo cleared her throat quietly and the servant-girl took a calming breath, forcefully straightening her shoulders. "Stand here, if you please. Let me look at you."

Lettuce's small, heart-shaped face was flushed the entire time she was fitted. Mrs. Yelland measured everything from her shoulder width to the length of her leg, from her bust to her slim waistline. At last, she sat back on her heels and looked up at Lettuce, who was chewing her lip nervously.

"Well, dear, what would you have me fashion for you?"

Along the wall behind her were shelves and shelves of material, all in rolls of all shapes and sizes, and organised according to variety. Ichigo rose from the loveseat and browsed the selection thoughtfully.

"I believe we should begin with silk," she said, taking between her fingers the corner of a roll of rich olive green. "What do you make of this, darling?"

Lettuce's eyes widened only briefly with shock – a length of such fine silk would have cost her half a year's wages – before she nodded and stammered, "Oh, th-that is rather lovely." If her nerves trembled on her tongue, Mrs. Yelland didn't notice. She stood with a small groan and joined Ichigo by the shelf.

"Puff sleeves," Ichigo decided, "and plum satin trimming. Perhaps a bow at the waist…?"

Mrs. Yelland removed the roll of silk, and the work began.

~S2~

The setting sun kissed the pavement, bathing the city in peachy golden light as they left the store some hours later. Mrs. Yelland's young shop assistant – a boy of no more than fifteen – carefully carried an armful of boxes ahead of them. Percival assisted him in stacking them in the carriage's luggage compartment. Lettuce gazed up at them giddily. Those boxes contained not one, or even two, but _five _brand-new gowns – beautiful things that she was too frightened to estimate the value of. It was no doubt more money than she'd ever owned in her entire life.

Ichigo beamed brightly at her. "Is this not so very thrilling?"

Lettuce bit her lip, glancing guiltily at the boxes again. They were like treasure chests. And they were – oh, dare she think it? – _hers. _A tiny, excited smile graced her lips. That was all the answer Ichigo needed.

"Come now, Percival," she said, gesturing to Lettuce. "We will return home now."

He obediently assisted the lady's maid up into the carriage, and then Ichigo.

"Keep your word," she said over her shoulder, and passed him a crumpled note. "And I will keep mine."

He nodded his agreement once, and shut the door behind her.

~S2~

"And where have _you_ been all day?" Mint demanded the moment the front door shut behind them. She swept into the hall, a dangerous snake in sky blue satin, her eyes narrowed and sharp.

"Why, Mint, darling," Ichigo said with feigned pleasantness. "I had thought you might have known! Why, with to-morrow so rapidly approaching, it was rather urgent we sort a wardrobe for Miss Lime."

"You _will not_ pretend inside my home!" Mint all but bellowed, balling her little fists angrily.

"How else will we become accustomed to addressing her so?" Ichigo demanded. Lettuce cowered behind her. "Lime, dear, why don't you have Percival take those things upstairs and wait for me in my quarters?"

Lettuce nodded quickly and went to curtsey on instinct, but Ichigo threw out a hand. "What have I told you, dear?"

Lettuce flushed furiously and scampered upstairs before Mint could screech, which she very shortly did.

"ICHIGO MOMOMIYA! How _dare _you corrupt my staff so! This is _utterly unacceptable_!"

"Do calm down, darling," Ichigo replied, in a deliberately calm voice she knew would only irritate her irate friend further. "You might scream yourself hoarse if you aren't careful. And – might I add – it _is _rather ungraceful of you." She pulled her travelling gloves off and dropped them on the stand in the hallway.

Mint could do nothing but stand and seethe.

"Do not insult me," she spat finally.

"I don't see why I should not," Ichigo replied, throwing a dart of a look at the tiny heiress. "After all, you seem to make such sport out of insulting _me_."

Mint was stonily silent for a long moment. "Dinner will be served in a few minutes."

She brushed past Ichigo and stormed into the front parlour, where Ichigo suspected there would be a fresh pot of tea waiting.

"Lime," she called up the stairs. "Do come down now. Dinner is being served."

"She is _not _eating with us!" Mint hissed, streaking back out of the parlour with such astonishing speed Ichigo wondered if she hadn't _truly _sprinted – something she had long suspected she might never witness in her lifetime.

"Of course she is," Ichigo replied shortly, propping her hands on her hips. "You must grow used to having her at your table, Mint. She'll be seated with us while we are away."

"We do not have to practise yet," Mint replied angrily. "This is my home, and in my home, she is my maid. She does not eat at my table. I will hear no argument."

"Then I do not eat at your table either," Ichigo snapped. "You may not feel so inclined as to pretend she is noble, Mint, but I do – for _your _name, need I remind you? The moment you step beyond that door, she is your equal, and you have no say against it. I suggest you start to-day. Nobody ever grew used to a scalding bathtub by jumping straight in."

Mint glared hotly at her, her small mouth drawn into a furious line. The smells of roasted beef and gravy wafted from the dining room. Finally, Mint snarled angrily, letting out a low hiss of irritation, and spun on her heel, stomping away.

"Lime, darling," Ichigo called again, feeling rather elated by her small victory. "We really rather would prefer not to start without you. Our food is cooling!"

She waited at the foot of the staircase until her shy friend emerged, and took her hand to lead her into the dining room, where they would endure a terrible, unbearably icy silence, but where Lettuce would also, for the first time, enjoy a delicious meal she would have otherwise merely served.

~S2~

The following morning dawned bright and cool. The girls waited by the carriage in their dresses and light travelling coats while Percival and several of the stable-hands lugged their locked trunks down the stairs and outside, where they were loaded on the back of the coach. They climbed up and took their seats, catching last glimpses of the house on Washington Square through the small windows as they pulled away.

The journey to Chelsea wasn't particularly long, nor was it particularly comfortable, either. Ichigo sat beside Lettuce, clasping her hand comfortingly while Mint stared determinedly out at the city. She refused to look at Lettuce, and said absolutely nothing, her small face still pinched with irritation. Ichigo was starting to worry she might not be able to pretend at all, and that their game might be given away the moment they joined the rest of the travelling party.

They soon pulled up at the riverside, and Percival helped them all down the fold-down steps. The gravel crunched under Ichigo's heels and her skirts swayed in the breeze. The waters of the Hudson rippled, lapping against the wide wooden pier behind the simple boathouse. Its cream paint was peeling in places. Docked at the jetty, rising up from the murky surface, was a large iron paddle steamer, painted rich deep green, its name – 'PS Lucy' – emblazoned proudly across its hull.

"Bring them to the boat," Mint said dismissively to Percival, stalking away toward the boathouse. Ichigo hastened to follow, towing Lettuce by the hand. Her soft blue eyes were huge with wonder and perhaps a little fear as they approached the ferry, and she leaned in close to Ichigo to whisper in her ear, "I've not yet been on a boat. I must confess… I'm afraid I cannot swim."

"Don't fret," Ichigo whispered back, "neither can I. I have, however, been on a ferry ride before, and I can assure you that you will be perfectly safe aboard."

Other holiday-goers were assembled at the foot of the gangplank, chattering excitedly amongst each other. The trio joined the group, Ichigo muttering quickly in Lettuce's ear exactly how she should 'mingle' with her fellow celebutantes.

"You must always appear most interested, even if you are frightfully bored," she explained. "Never frown – always smile. Nod politely, for you _will_ always agree. It's ever so rude to disagree, especially when speaking with your superior or senior. You are always well, never unwell, unless Mint or I are there to proclaim your illness for you – it's rather impolite to appear too fixed upon yourself, you see."

Lettuce nodded wildly, trying desperately to commit it all to memory.

"Oh, and always ask questions about others – is your daughter well? How were your travels to Paris? Have you yet redecorated your parlour this season?" Ichigo went on, ticking off on her fingers. "But never appear to be prying. We are simply pleasantly interested in the extremely dreary existences of our peers. It will be a most terrible bore, but–oh, Mrs. Carrington, what a _pleasure_!" She broke off mid-sentence, switching on a bright smile and lifting her eyes to greet a birdlike woman with very bouffant hair, who had rather spontaneously accosted them. "My, that dress is simply marvellous – whoever tailored it for you?"

Lettuce studiously tried to follow their exchanging of compliments and overly-merry small-talk, but her attention waned – she wasn't yet skilled in the art of floral chitchat and confessed to herself that she rather had difficulty following their conversation – and she found herself glancing curiously around the dock instead.

Everywhere she turned there were beautiful women and aristocratic men in tailored suits and blooming dresses, with perfect hair and charming smiles, conversing congenially as though they had not a stress in the world. How she had secretly envied them, all these years, watching from afar as the women had their hair carefully fashioned at the salon, and picked out strings of pearls from the Tiffany windows before stopping to brunch at expensive restaurants where they were served high tea and fresh pastries. Most often she would be carrying a laundry basket on her hip.

It had always seemed such a high life; the dream she would only ever experience whilst in the realm of slumber. Yet here she was, walking among the socialites she'd always admired, in a dress that any of the women could have been wearing, her hair braided carefully in a manner she might have spent her morning doing Mint's on any other day. And she was about to board a ferry to see the countryside for a glamorous high-society wedding. She couldn't help her small, excited smile, in spite of her nerves, and reflexively squeezed Ichigo's hand. Ichigo squeezed back.

There were many conversations to be endured. Lettuce quickly learned to pay attention; Ichigo tugged on her hand whenever her attention drifted, and she would find herself hastily nodding and smiling even if she wasn't supposed to be agreeing. She prayed that nobody thought her particularly odd. At any moment she expected some fancy celebutante to narrow their eyes and sniff haughtily, and recognise her for what she was – not a graceful young daughter of society but merely a simple lady's maid. She held her breath whenever one conversation ended and a new one began, waiting for the moment she would be discovered.

But it never came, and before she knew it there were shouts for boarding – and could they please present their tickets? – and the crowd was shuffling slowly up the gangplank. Lettuce kept a tight hold on Ichigo's gloved hand until they were safely on the sturdy wooden deck, when she let out a gentle sigh of relief before Ichigo tugged her to the bow. They stood with their hands resting on the rails as the paddle steamer blared its foghorn and chugged steadily away from the pier.

The wind was quite fierce; it buffered them relentlessly so that the squealing ladies clamped their hands down on their bonnets and wrestled with their flapping skirts. The waves splashed against the side of the boat, and Lettuce, standing at the bow and looking down into the waters, found herself becoming quite queasy. The rocking of the boat resounded in her churning stomach, and the boat lurched every so often as they surged over a particularly large, rolling wave. After one such incident, she balked from the railing and pressed her fingers to her lips, her eyes squeezing shut.

"Lime, darling, are you feeling quite alright?" Ichigo's concerned voice came from beside her.

"Oh…" Lettuce trailed off, trying to pull herself together. "I… I'm afraid I–"

But what it was exactly that she was, Ichigo was not privy to know, for the green-haired girl was hit all of a sudden by another awful wave of nausea. She clenched her stomach with her free arm, feeling unpleasantly weak in the knees and light in the head.

"My dear, whatever is the matter?" Ichigo gasped, grasping her shoulders in alarm.

"The poor thing seems to suffer on sea-legs," a new voice commented, joining the conversation. Ichigo looked around; there, tall and gentle-eyed, stood Keiichiro Akasaka. "How unfortunate she can't enjoy this fine morning."

"Whatever can we do for her?" Ichigo asked worriedly, watching Lettuce trembling unstably against the railing.

"Fret not, Miss Ichigo," Keiichiro replied with a kind smile, "she is in no danger. But it would be best to take her inside, away from the water. Come along, Miss Lime. You'll recover soon; we'll take very good care of you, I promise."

Ichigo stood, an expression of dismay upon her pretty face, her fingers resting absently against the rail, her other hand clasped against her chest with worry. She watched as Keiichiro looped his arm gentle around Lettuce's slender waist and carefully guided her away towards the cabin, talking to her in a manner she imagined would be most reassuring. She let out a little anxious sigh.

"You're rather overreacting, you know."

She didn't have to turn to know the owner of the voice. Sure enough, when she _did _turn, she looked straight into a pair of smug, brilliant blue eyes. His lip lifted in a small smirk. "Seasickness is rather common. It is hardly means for such dramatics."

"Would you mind butting your nose _out _of an incident for once, as opposed to _into _it?" Ichigo snapped, her temper snapping. "Forgive my insolence but it _is _rather overlarge and tends to poke most irritatingly in the way oftentimes."

She glared up at him hotly and, balling her fists, stomped off.

Across the deck, Mint lifted her flute of bubbly champagne to her curling lips. She lifted her other hand and daintily tucked a wayward tendril of midnight blue behind her ear.

"Well," she observed, amused, "she _is _rather in a tizz this morning."

"Yes," came Kish's lazy drawl. "Our yellow-haired companion seems to be the harbinger of such reactions in her, I've come to notice."

"And who _is _this mysterious, dashing young man?" Mint wondered, swilling the expensive alcohol around her glass and examining him out of the corner of her approving eye.

"Nobody I've ever made the acquaintance of," Kish replied, leaning casually against the railing. The wind whisked his hair back from his face for a moment, and his eyes were clear, flat gold, mildly interested but still ringed with the lingering aftermath of sleep. His curiosity was fleeting. "Good Lord but early mornings are a drag," he groaned, turning away to gaze across the grey waters. Mint flicked her dark eyes up at him in a momentary glance, before returning her attention to the blonde man, who was now – like Kish – focused on the river, his hands burrowed deep into his pockets.

"He is a most curious character," she decided.

Kish threw one last lazy look over his shoulder. "I fail to see how." He reached into the pocket of his waistcoat and pulled out a silver case of cigarettes, which he flicked open with ease and tapped, sliding out a smoke. Placing it between his slender lips, he lit it in one practised motion, clinking his engraved golden lighter shut with a snap and pocketing it. Then he took a long drag and exhaled slowly.

"Feeling better, darling?" Mint asked without taking her eyes away from the blonde man.

"Distinctly," Kish replied. Then he cracked a crooked smirk. "Now all I need is a good drink to set me straight."

"Perfect," Mint said, offering him her full flute. "Here."

Without waiting for his reply, she pushed it into his hand, knowing he would accept it, and flashed him one of her most devious smiles, which he would most certainly understand. "Please excuse me a moment."

Shaking his head to himself, Kish drained the flute of champagne in one go, dropped it on the silver tray of a passing waiter in exchange for a fresh one, and took another long drag on his cigarette, turning back to enjoy the scenery while he woke up properly.

~S2~

"I see you've already made the acquaintance of my friend."

The blonde man turned, startled, and looked down at her. Mint's small, plump lips curved up in an inviting smile. She offered one petite hand, gloved in black lace. He immediately took it and raised it to his lips.

"Mint Aizawa," she introduced, turning on the charm. She tilted her head up, standing proud and poised and confident, exuding charisma from between thick black lashes.

"Ryou Shirogane," he returned, glancing the length of her slim body in several subtle, sweeping observations. "A pleasure."

"You are English." It wasn't a question, but Mint was pleasantly surprised when she recognised his accent. His blue eyes found hers once more, and in them she read his own surprise at this obviously unexpected knowledge of hers.

"And you are worldly."

She gave a light, tinkling laugh. "Oh, I should hardly say so. I would very much like to see foreign shores, but I must confess my travels have been rather limited."

"I must confess," Ryou said, "I'm not quite sure I know of this friend you speak of."

"Why, you spoke with her not five minutes ago," Mint replied, feigning wide-eyed, innocent astonishment, quickly stifling her irritation at him asking after Ichigo instead of questioning her more about herself. "Pardon my spying, but it seemed you shared a disagreement of sorts."

"Oh," he said, realisation dawning in his sky-blue eyes. "I assume you are referring to the spritely tempered young lady with the vibrant red hair."

"Yes," Mint said, a trifle sourly. "Ichigo. She's rather a reckless young lady, and I'm sorry to say her manners are quite appalling at times."

"Yet you are friends?" Ryou asked with vague interest that didn't quite border earnest curiosity.

Mint blushed. He glanced at her shrewdly. "Yes, she is a guest of mine for the summer and a rather dear friend. But she has never spoken of you – how very peculiar! How, exactly, did you come to meet?"

"By rather unfortunate coincidence," he muttered, an irritated look flashing in his eyes, "and sheer misfortune on multiple occasions."

Mint laughed again. For some unexplainable reason, his reaction pleased her immensely. Ryou glanced at her in surprise. Her dark eyes sparkled up at him.

"I should endeavour to transform that frown into a smile," she laughed, and shot him a coquettish look from beneath lowered lashes. He gazed at her thoughtfully for a few moments, and Mint couldn't help but feel as though she were being analysed. Her confidence faltered a little.

"Shall I get you a drink?" Ryou asked finally, and her lip curled in a flirtatious smile.

"Why thank you, Mr. Shirogane. That would be simply lovely."

And a strong surge of satisfaction coursed through her veins as she watched him retreat. Nobody could resist Miss Aizawa.

* * *

**September 11, 2010.**

**A/N: **Well, well, well. Who exactly is the dashing young Ryou, and has he, perhaps, captured Mint's fickle interest? You'll soon find out. I'm setting the bar at **20 **reviews (we're at 16 so far! We can do it!) for the next update. It's already finished, so if you want it soon, review, review, review away to your heart's content! :D

**EVERYBODY!** A moment here to advertise a wonderful little piece of writing published by the amazing **Essence of Gold**. She's taken the time to write a Chiffon-verse Lettuce/Keiichiro oneshot! I'm so honoured I don't know where to begin. I think I'll start by sending all my CK readers over to check it out! The oneshot is part of her **'Indigo, Violet, Brown and Green'** collection, and is the THIRD piece, entitled: **'Sweets to the Sweet'**. A little sneak preview is just below. :D

_'Keiichiro smiled fondly after her. Such a sweet girl. It was a shame that Minto kept Lettuce dancing to her every whim each moment of the day. He scarcely saw her other than to carry orders from her mistress, and he secretly wished that he might be given the chance to acquaint himself with her a little better – bring her out of her shell, and then, maybe, he'd be able to see more of her rare but lovely smile.'_

- http:/www(dot)fanfiction(dot)net/s/6196760/3/Indigo_Violet_Brown_and_Green

Keiichiro/Lettuce fans (and everyone else XD), read, read, read! Away with you!

**A special note here:** My thoughts go out today to the victims of September 11. Nine years on, the tragedy is as raw and awful as it was that sad day in '01. A minute's respectful silence in honour of those who were lost.

**Thank you**, as always, to my lovely readers! Love to:

**- LucyShirogane**

-** Essence of Gold** (S2)

**- loveneko64**

and

**- Ally Marton**

... for all the thoughts and feedback! Remember, all we need is **4** more reviews for chapter 5! (Feel free to exceed the pre-requisite, though! ;P)

Much love,

**Cherrie xx**


	5. Cinq

**Chiffon Kisses and Porcelain Smiles**

**~ Cinq ~**

* * *

Lettuce stumbled as another wave splashed against the ferry. She was most fortunate indeed to have Mr. Akasaka's arm so very securely around her, for she most certainly would have tripped and made a rather ungraceful mess of herself had he not been beside her.

"Watch your step," he warned gently in her ear, and guided her through a doorway into the stagnant warmth of the indoors. People glanced at her in surprise and moved hastily out of their way. Keiichiro kept his arm firmly around her small body and steered her out of the dining room and into a small corridor, where he opened a white door and ushered her carefully into the cabin beyond. There was a narrow bed against the wall and a table with a vase containing a single daisy, but otherwise the space was empty but for a single wooden chair in the corner.

"Here." Keiichiro gently released her and turned her to face him. He gazed at her with compassionate brown eyes wavering with concern, and lifted a long-fingered hand. "May I?"

Numbly, Lettuce nodded her head, which did little to improve her dizziness. The next moment, he'd swept back a few strands of green from her forehead and had pressed the back of his hand against it. "Goodness, you're awfully clammy. Please, lie down and rest. I'll fetch some water." Footsteps echoed along the corridor behind him, and Keiichiro stuck his head out the door. "Oh! Baron – I do apologise for being so bold as to ask, but please, would you mind fetching a glass of water? I would search for a waiter, only I'm loathe to leave an ill maiden by herself, should anything go amiss…"

Lettuce, meanwhile, had lowered herself shakily to the cot and lay now with her eyes scrunched closed. If she opened them, she discovered she would experience the most unpleasant sensation of watching the roof twirl above her, and her eyes would ache. Her stomach gurgled uncomfortably; she pressed one hand against it to soothe the pain.

"Are you feeling any better?" Keiichiro asked, kneeling by her bedside and looking into her face. She gazed up into the infinite warmth and kindness in his eyes and nodded – Ichigo had forbade her reveal if she was feeling poorly – marvelling at his impossible generosity. Warmth dusted her awfully pallid cheeks.

"Mr. Akasaka," a low, smooth voice spoke from the doorway. "Miss Fujiwara is searching for you…"

"Oh," Keiichiro stood immediately. "She is?"

"I will watch her."

"Thank you," Keiichiro said, inclining his head. He turned back to Lettuce with a gentle smile. "I do hope you recover shortly, Miss Lime."

She managed a weak, whispery, earnest, "Thank you", then in three quick strides he had exited the room and she was left in the company of a man she was startled to recognise. Steely, unemotional grey eyes looked back at her, and his pointed, sculpted face was void of readable expression. His hair, today, was swept back into a neat, low ponytail.

"Baron…" Lettuce whispered, horrified to be doted on by someone of such esteem, but he raised one slender hand to silence her.

"Rest. Sleep will cure your sickness." He quietly placed a cup of water on the table and crossed gracefully to the chair in the corner, folding himself into it noiselessly. Lettuce blinked at him with big, curious blue eyes for several long moments in which he gazed back and said nothing. Then he turned his eyes to the doorway, and she let her eyes flutter closed, trying to dissipate her uneasy thoughts so sleep could claim her, which it eventually – thankfully – did.

~S2~

"Are you feeling much better?"

Ichigo helped Lettuce into her travelling coat. The shier girl nodded. Her stomach had settled, the world had righted itself, and the ground no longer felt as though it was swelling beneath her feet. Baron Kagakusha had been correct; sleep had been a marvellous cure.

"Oh, that is a relief," Ichigo sighed. "You looked simply _awful _on deck this morning. I thought you might faint!" She gave Lettuce's hand a gentle squeeze. "Anyway, we've made port and everybody is preparing to disembark. Are you quite sure you can walk?"

"Yes," Lettuce said, as firmly as she could manage. She grasped Ichigo's supportive hand nonetheless as they made their way out of the cabin and onto the deck. When Lettuce lifted her soft eyes to the skyline, her breath was taken from her lips. She had thought Manhattan was large, but here, sprawling before her, was an endless spanse of city, stretching to far-off, endless horizons as far as the eye could see.

"Oh," she uttered softly, in awe. "But it's so enormous!"

Ichigo laughed at her reaction. "This is merely New Jersey. Mainland really goes on forever! Why, it takes days to get to California!"

_Days. _Lettuce simply couldn't comprehend such a thing. She'd never been anywhere that wasn't within several hours' walk. By coach – as she had discovered – it was even less. It was especially hard to imagine a world that wasn't walled in and restricted by water on all sides. Suddenly, the reality and possibility of there being more than her – retrospectively – small life in Manhattan was dizzying.

"Come," Ichigo ushered eagerly, tugging her toward the gangplank. "We can gossip over it all to-night. For now, you must seem worldly." So Lettuce let her lead the way along the pier and into the harbour. It was much larger than the modest dock in Chelsea; there were several ferries and paddle steamers docked along multiple jetties. She walked along among the chattering string of socialites, trying not to gape at the new landscape and wondering if the air on this side of the river really did taste different, or if it was merely her imagination overreacting.

There was a long line of black carriages waiting along the street outside the harbour. Mint stood beside one with her arms folded across her chest and their three trunks piled at her feet. She jerked her head impatiently at them, ordering them silently to quicken their pace, and snapped her fingers at the coachman, who obediently loaded up their luggage.

"Must you dawdle so?" she sniped irritably as they made themselves comfortable on the plush seats. "I do tire so of waiting."

"Mint, darling," Ichigo replied lightly, "you couldn't possibly have been waiting terribly long. I'm sure I spied you walking from the ferry as we were disembarking. Why, you must have reached the luggage as we were reaching the end of the jetty."

"You must be mistaken," Mint said haughtily. "I stood so long my poor feet feel awfully bruised."

"My sincerest apologies, Miss," Lettuce said, bowing her head before she could stop to think. Ichigo reached over and slapped her hand. She sat bolt upright, flushing madly.

"Enough, Lettuce," Ichigo reprimanded, shooting a scowl at Mint, "for you no longer have reason to apologise for _anything. _Ladies are never late, you'll come to see. We arrive as we please. Mint, if you insist on walking around with your nose in the air, nobody will ever believe you."

Mint glared at them both, then turned and – rather ironically, Ichigo thought – stuck her nose in the air. She restrained a ridiculous giggle and turned instead to smile brightly at Lettuce.

"Now we begin the second half of our journey."

The carriage pulled away from the kerb with a jolt.

~S2~

"Well, actually," Ichigo amended, as they were assisted down onto the ground, "the second _part. _This is the real second leg."

Resting at the platform was an enormous, gleaming steam locomotive, with a long cylindrical engine a bold jet black, and a long chimney. It had three wheels – two small and one large – with narrow spokes, and a cart piled with big chunks of coal was attached to it. Linked together in a long row after that were square carriages painted rich maroon, with neat rows of wide, glass windows interspersed with wooden doors.

"Isn't it simply beautiful?" Ichigo gushed excitedly. "I travelled one of these trains on my journey from Virginia. They're wonderfully luxurious!"

"Hush, Ichigo, darling," Mint threw over her shoulder, the faintest hint of sarcasm tinging her otherwise fond tone. "Why, you sound as wondrous as an innocent child."

"I should wonder at your being so impartial, Mint," Ichigo replied, with faked astonishment. "I could have sworn your father had told me you'd yet to see the inside of such a vehicle. Are you not the least enthusiastic for such a momentous day – why, it marks your first train ride!"

Mint blushed the faintest of pinks and stalked off snootily. Ichigo winked playfully at Lettuce.

"Come along," she said merrily. "Oh, but locomotives _are _exciting!"

Lettuce quite heartily agreed. When the porters called for boarding and she stepped up the narrow stairs into the carriage with Ichigo, she quite believed she'd never seen anything so magnificent in all her life. A long hallway, carpeted in thick, blood red, stretched away at their feet, lined with lanterns that gave off a gentle dusky glow. Frosted glass-windowed doors were built into the polished oak panelling, and the walls met the white roof with simple but refined skirting boards. Ichigo led the way down the corridor, one of the smartly-dressed porters carrying their cases behind them.

"Ah, here we are!" Ichigo declared, after sliding open several doors and discovering an empty compartment. "This one will do splendidly. If you please, good sir."

They stood aside to let the porter pass, and after he'd loaded their trunks into the racks above their seats they scooted into the compartment. Ichigo slid the door shut behind them. It was a small, square space with two plush-cushioned benches facing each other. A lantern sat on the wall beside the door, and the wide window was lined with lavish velvet red curtains.

"Oh," Lettuce murmured softly. It seemed to be her reaction to most things. Ichigo beamed at her, loving how she responded to the new world she was being introduced to. It brought her some small satisfaction, watching somebody who had known so little appreciate so largely all the things the stuffy aristocrats had come to expect at every turn. The world seemed a little less obnoxious when she was in Lettuce's company.

She sat down with a contented sigh and made herself comfortable. Lettuce, gazing out the window, sank slowly onto the velvet seat opposite.

"Will this be a terribly long journey?" she asked curiously.

"Perhaps," Ichigo replied after a moment of consideration, resting her chin on her hand. "I honestly do not know. I've never made this particular trip before, and nobody has told me quite how long we are to be confined to this train. I suppose it will take quite some time… possibly the better half of the day. I suggest you make yourself as comfortable as possible and enjoy it."

~S2~

It was a sharp jolt that threw Lettuce from sleep to consciousness. She sat up straight, having lounged against the curtain in her slumber, and quickly wiped self-consciously at the corners of her mouth. Across the compartment, Ichigo was snoring quietly, her head lolling against her shoulder.

Lettuce yawned as silently as possible, covering her mouth with one gloved hand. Catching sight of the thin material, she wriggled her fingers in front of her face, marvelling at the strange feeling of having her fingers dressed. The only time she'd ever worn a pair of gloves was when she'd once borrowed the old kitchen-hand's holey woollen mittens when running a forgotten basket of laundry down one frost-bitten night several Christmases ago. It was difficult to get used to the idea of wearing a pair every single time one left the house.

Lettuce sighed a little. She was wide awake now, with no way of telling how long she'd been asleep. The compartment was quite stuffy, and a little on the too-warm side, so she rose, having discovered the sudden desire for fresh air and an adventurous side of her she'd never really known, and carefully slid the door aside, slipping out into the corridor. She walked the length of it and came to a door that opened outward. The wind whipped at her when she pushed it open, and she stepped onto a thin bridge between the two carriages.

Her heart slowed only when she'd securely shut the door behind her, closing out the awful whistling of the wind roaring past the train. It was like a great sucking force, the moment she stepped onto the bridge, trying to pull her off the planks. She shuddered and moved along, peering curiously at the frosted windows and wondering what sort of people sat behind them.

Often muffled laughter came through the wooden panels, and a soft smile would grace her lips. She liked the sound of laughter – it was such a carefree, infectious noise, and it reminded her, suddenly, she realised, of Ichigo, who was without a doubt the kindest friend she'd ever had and probably ever _would_ have. She fingered the dress she was wearing – the cream and green pinstripe one – and felt a rush of affection for the redhead. Someday, she vowed, she would find a way to repay her kindness.

For now, she pushed onward, hoping she might find somewhere she could catch her breath that wasn't between the carriages. She felt no desire to be tugged at again. Unfortunately, it would happen another three times before she would reach the furthermost point of the train, and she was quite windswept when she pushed open the door of the last carriage and tumbled out onto a small veranda-like platform with a rounded tin roof and wooden safety rails.

She took a deep breath. Well she supposed it was an improvement. While the wind still whistled about rather frighteningly, at least it wasn't as vicious as the bridges between the carriages. She straightened her posture – Ichigo seemed to be always reminding her – and stepped further onto the veranda, quietly closing the door firmly. Then she turned to look out over the tracks disappearing into the distance, and promptly froze, for there was somebody already standing out there, tall and still, his hands clasped calmly behind his back.

He turned, and again she recognised the silky lavender hair and composed grey eyes.

"Oh! Baron Kagakusha!" Lettuce gasped, instantly reddening. "I'm awfully sorry! I didn't intend to intrude upon your solace! Oh, do pardon me!"

"It's quite all right," he said calmly, watching her with a vaguely bemused expression, as though he couldn't work out quite why she was so agitated. "You are, of course, most welcome to join me. I certainly do not own the rights to this particular piece of timber."

It was the most he'd said to her in the few instances they'd met, and for a moment, she was surprised, for he seemed a man of very few words and even fewer expressions, but his features now were anything but expressionless. His eyes searched her face with quiet intensity, his brows drawn together in what she would describe as concern on anybody else, but she simply couldn't be certain of on him.

"Please excuse me," she murmured softly, backing to escape the way she'd come. For certainly she would have to behave like a socialite, and she wasn't confident she could do it without Ichigo.

"Stay," the Baron requested abruptly. He averted his gaze quickly, turning to speak to the land disappearing on the horizon. "I find I rather enjoy your company."

For a few long, confusing moments, Lettuce simply stood and stared at his handsomely-dressed back, astonished by his forwardness, and surprised at the strange feeling within that she didn't understand; the warm fluttering spreading through her chest and making her heart race. Her cheeks glowed.

"Are you quite well?" the Baron asked with practised politeness. When she didn't respond right away, he turned his chin, as if perhaps checking she was still there out of the corner of his eye, and his side profile was so refined and handsome that her breath was quite captured. Lettuce started suddenly, gripping her fingers nervously.

"Y-yes," she said hastily, speaking to a spot near her feet. "Thank you ever so much for your kindness this morning. I must apologise most sincerely for being such a burden to you."

"Not at all, Miss Lime," the Baron returned calmly. "You were rather ill, and I – admittedly – quite bored, so it rather ended up a most convenient arrangement, don't you think?"

"I… I suppose it did…" Lettuce trailed off, her heart thudding sharper than before. His saying her name – albeit her pseudonym – sent a strange, unexpected thrill down her spine. It sounded pleasant falling from his lips. She took a tentative step toward him, then steeled herself and crossed lightly to his side. She glanced up at him shyly, trailing her gloved fingers along the wooden railing for several moments of silence. He watched her out of the corner of his eye, smiling a little to himself when she took a breath, let it go, then several seconds later, took another. She glanced at him again, blushed violently when she caught him looking, and snapped her eyes away.

"Do you have something you wish to voice, Miss Lime?"

The poor girl flushed redder and forced herself to look up at him again. "I… well… I must confess I do have a question for you."

"By all means."

"I… I was merely wondering," she began, her gentle ocean eyes tentative. "Well, it's just that… one might come to the conclusion that you don't much care for parties and weddings and other such festivities. Forgive my observation if it is impudent, but I seem to recall you confessing something quite similar at the garden party of Miss Fong. I… I was thinking to myself that, if it was such that you _did, _in fact, dislike such celebrations, as one might be led to believe, well… why, then, would you attend them?"

He blinked at her when this rather ridiculous spiel came to its long-overdue conclusion. Lettuce bit her lip.

"Why, Miss Lime, am I mistaken in concluding that you find me terrible bore?"

Her hands flew to her mouth and she emitted a little gasp of horror. "Oh, my! Forgive me, sir – I did not – no, I most certainly would never – oh, I _am _so awfully ashamed! I beg your forgiveness for my disrespect! Oh, please excuse me, sir!" With a tiny, polite bow, she dashed, red-faced, into the carriage.

The door swung shut and he was left to the whistling wind, his bewildered steel eyes fixed upon the place the extraordinarily peculiar young lady had last been standing.

~S2~

When Ichigo slid aside the compartment door, it was with worried, fervent eyes that she glanced up and down the corridor. Where in the world had Lettuce disappeared to? And why had she not mentioned anything? Well, Ichigo reasoned, she had probably been asleep at the time. Lettuce was so polite a girl it really came as no surprise that she would choose not to wake a snoozing companion. And, logically, she had to be somewhere on the train, for where else did she possibly have to go? But she really should have said something – now Ichigo was worried, perhaps unnecessarily – about her. What if some insufferably nosy society woman had cornered her? Why, the poor thing would simply die of fright!

The redhead made her way quickly down the corridor, stopping every now and then to knock on the doors of the more crowded compartments and ask after her friend. Frustratingly, the responses were always negative, and the travellers too fizzy from champagne to be concerned.

"You haven't _misplaced_ her, surely?" Mint asked, her lips curling up in a small smirk. She made no effort to mask her obvious delight at Ichigo's dilemma. "How very tragic. Wouldn't you agree?" Her companions – two women Ichigo did not recognise and a man she _wished _she didn't – all stared at her. The women hastened to agree merrily. The blonde-haired, blue-eyed man simply gave her a sort of amused, disdainful look. They were a good pair, he and wicked, smirking Mint, she mused, thanking them politely for their time and sliding their compartment door shut with rather more force than she expected.

If she thought the worst of her unfailing misfortune had passed, however, she was sadly mistaken, for several compartments later, a door was dragged aside and from the dim interiors appeared the luminous golden eyes of Kish.

"Well, well," he purred with a slowly widening smirk. His eyes grinned down at her. "What have we here? A little lost kitten, perhaps? Or is the lovely Miss Ichigo seeking me out, at long last, to confess her affections?" His breath washed across her face, perfumed with the scent of cigarettes and scotch.

"Oh, do stop it," Ichigo snapped, losing her temper. "I have but a single question for you, Mr. Ranzatsu. Have you or have you not seen my dear friend Miss Lime?"

"Perhaps I have." He smirked lazily. "Perhaps I have not."

"I'm afraid I have no time for games to-day," Ichigo said, unsmiling. She folded her arms across her chest. "If you have no answer, then I shall bid you farewell."

"Oh I most certainly have answers," Kish assured her, lounging casually against the door frame. "But what price are you willing to pay for it?"

"Oh, blackmail is the game now, is it, Mr. Ranzatsu?" Ichigo shook her head. "You are a foul, revolting animal in the guise of a man, and you repulse me." She stuck her chin defiantly in the air, and he half expected her to stick out her tongue like a stubborn child. He grinned devilishly at her, for she had let her guard down, and a moment later his arm was round her waist. He swept her effortlessly into the room. The door slid shut, to her dismay, and she was pressed up suddenly against the closed curtains.

"Why, you impudent–! Release me at once, Kish!" Ichigo shrieked, fighting against him. But it proved futile; his body was pressed against hers, one arm securely around her waist, holding her to him. The other reached up lightly to brush the angry strands of red from her face. His eyes, glowing faintly in the darkness, bored into hers with heart-throbbing intensity. Ichigo felt her heart seize up –against her will – in her chest.

"Is that truly what you wish, kitten?" he purred, lowering his face to nuzzle gently at her neck. A shudder shivered exquisitely down her spine and she despised herself for melting against him so helplessly. She pushed pathetically at his shoulders, the fight fizzling out of her as he grazed her neck most tantalisingly with his lips. She sighed, finding herself quite unable to resist him.

"It would seem to the eye of the third-party – and, I must admit, to myself – that in my arms is rather exactly where you would desire to be," he observed huskily against her throat. Ichigo struggled to pull her thoughts together.

"And why," she murmured desperately, "would I entrust myself to you?" He stilled and she pushed him back from her, putting some space between them and filling her lungs with haze-clearing oxygen. He looked straight into her eyes, his gaze fierce liquid gold, smouldering like scorching embers. But he said nothing, as she suspected he might. She seemed to have surprised him somehow.

"You see?" Ichigo huffed, wishing she sounded much more in control and much less breathless. "You have no answer, after all."

And she pushed firmly against his chest until her feet met the floor, and moved to the door, wrenching it open. He gazed after her, a most peculiar expression of forlorn confusion etching his charismatic face, like he couldn't quite work out what had just happened. She stepped forcefully into the corridor and closed the door purposefully behind her.

It snapped shut with satisfying solidity.

~S2~

"Oh, where have you _been_?" Ichigo gasped and pulled Lettuce into a relived hug. "Good Lord, darling, but I searched _everywhere _for you!"

"I'm awfully sorry!" Lettuce gasped, looking terribly distressed. "But – oh, Miss Ichigo – I did a most terrible, horrible thing!"

"Why, Le-ime!" Ichigo amended quickly, mid-speech. "Whatever is the matter?"

"I… I – oh – I insulted the Baron!" Lettuce bleated, and promptly burst into tears. Alarmed, Ichigo swept her into an embrace.

"Darling, hush," she soothed quickly, glancing around hopefully for a vacant compartment. One up ahead had a door left ajar, and she herded Lettuce toward it. "Don't fret so – let us take refuge in here and then tell me all that happened."

They slipped inside and Ichigo quickly closed over the door. The papers wouldn't be kind to a socialite who failed to keep a lid on her emotions in public. She let out a low sigh of relief, then caught sight of Lettuce folded in a heap on the bench and her expression instantly melted.

"Oh, dear," she murmured, sitting on the cushion beside her and reaching for one soft hand. "Tell me."

Lettuce raised her tear-streaked face and swallowed. Then she recounted her story, from when she'd woken and stolen from their compartment, to her horrendous offense and her desperate escape, leaving out only the strange manner in which her heart had quickened in his presence, for reasons she simply didn't know. Fresh tears swam in her distraught blue eyes and spilled down her cheeks when she finished, but to her shock Ichigo's shoulders shook with laughter, and a wayward giggle escaped her lips.

Lettuce stared at Ichigo, wondering if she had made a mistake when retelling the tale, or if it was, perhaps, that fate was dealing her its first cruelty in having her friend find amusement in her distress.

"Oh, darling," Ichigo said with a fond smile, pulling herself together, "but you are so _very_ sweet. Why, the Baron hardly sounds offended!"

"H-he… he doesn't?" Lettuce stammered, dizzyingly confused. "I – I must confess, I don't understand."

"It seems to me like you merely amused him," Ichigo said, reaching into her sleeve for her lace handkerchief, which she used to dab at Lettuce's cheeks.

"I… still do not understand."

Ichigo opened her mouth to explain but the compartment door slid open and they whirled in surprise.

"Oh, I do beg your pardon," Masaya Aoyama said, equally surprised. His eyes locked onto Ichigo, and their simultaneous, mirroring smiles of delight were so lovely Lettuce quite forgot her own drama for a moment and basked in the glow that radiated from them both.

"Miss Ichigo," he greeted, his eyes unmoving from her face, "this is a pleasant surprise."

She blushed sweetly, smiling so brightly she rather outshone the sun streaming through the window. "I must agree. But is this not your compartment we have hijacked? I am terribly sorry!"

"Not at all," he laughed easily. "By all means, you are most welcome to continue occupying it. I merely came in search of my waistcoat."

"Oh – is it this one?" Ichigo asked, noticing something brown, neatly folded on the seat beside her. She picked it up and offered it up to him.

"Why, yes," Masaya replied, reaching out. Their fingers brushed – Lettuce couldn't help but think perhaps deliberately – for a moment, then Ichigo quickly dropped her hand. It retreated to her lap, where the other brushed against the place his fingers had touched as though she had been burned.

"But we are being rude!" Masaya exclaimed, and turned his friendly smile to Lettuce. Ichigo smiled guiltily at her friend, and the pair of them rather resembled two children caught sneaking biscuits before dinner. "I am awfully sorry for ignoring you so, Miss…" He trailed off pointedly.

"Oh! Mr. Aoyama, this is my dear friend, Miss Lime," Ichigo prompted. "Goodness, how my manners evaded me! I _am _sorry!"

"It is a pleasure," Masaya said, looking at Lettuce as he stepped forward to kiss her hand. And suddenly, her heart constricted violently in her chest, for a vaguely confused expression flitted in his eyes, with flashes of what she prayed fiercely was not what she suspected it might be – recognition. The next words from his lips filled her with ice-cold dread. "Forgive my insolence if I'm much mistaken, but your face seems so very familiar. Have we not ever met before?"

"I-I do not think so," Lettuce stammered, colour draining rapidly from her cheeks.

"But that would be quite impossible," Ichigo said shakily. She forced a cheerful smile. "Miss Lime has only very recently arrived from California, you see, and was taken rather ill quite promptly afterward. She has yet to really step out into society!"

Masaya gave an easy laugh. "I must apologise. You must think me very strange! I do hope I didn't startle you – forgive my error."

"I-it is no trouble," Lettuce murmured weakly, trying for a smile and failing spectacularly, managing something akin to a frightened grimace. Ichigo swallowed anxiously, hoping Masaya wouldn't remember where he had seen her before – the parlour of the Aizawa manor, dressed in the uniform of a maid – but knowing he was far too intelligent to be fooled by such a simple trick.

However, when he turned his gentle amber eyes back to smile affectionately at her, his gaze held no suspicion. She relaxed a little in her seat, physically unable to stop the smile that she responded with.

"Thank you for stopping by," she said without thinking, then caught herself and laughed embarrassedly. "Though this is your own compartment, of course… I suppose it was rather to be expected!"

"I rather think you fit it much better than I," he replied congenially. "And it made for a most pretty picture upon which to open a door." He inclined his head in a small, polite bow. "Perhaps we will meet again soon."

"Until then," Ichigo said, beaming. He slid the door shut and the redhead stared at it for a considerable few moments, before turning her face – radiating unabashed happiness – to Lettuce.

"Oh, I feel such a fool," she gushed, her brown eyes sparkling, "but _surely_ I am falling in love!"

~S2~

It was late in the afternoon when the train slowly chuffed its way to a stop at a modest station kissed orange in the waning light. Porters stepped up into the carriages to retrieve the luggage, and Lettuce gazed out the wide window at the surrounding landscape. It was very green and rather overgrown, she thought, and was unlike anything she'd ever seen. The greenest part of New York was Central Park, and it was bordered with busy streets and tall buildings that loomed far above the tallest trees. From the glimpses she could see, the parks out here seemed to stretch endlessly for miles and miles.

"Come," Ichigo urged, tugging on her hand. "We don't want to be forgotten!"

They descended onto the simple platform, wandering along with the other holiday-makers in a dwindling line that trailed towards the street. A wooden sign nailed to the round-faced clock had been carefully hand-painted to read 'Barrington Station'. They passed through the small station and out into the quiet main street, lined with barbers and bakeries. The largest building seemed to be the bank, which was a double-storey shopfront with a curled, tin-roof veranda.

"But where is the city?" Lettuce whispered in surprise, glancing up and down the unmade road. Several women, their skirts hitched up in their hands, crossed further down, laughing cheerfully amongst themselves as they made their way towards the single salon.

"My darling, this _is _the city," Ichigo replied with a bright smile. Lettuce frowned in confusion. "Not all places are as grand as New York. Why, I suppose most towns are quite like Barrington. It's quite lovely, don't you think?"

Lettuce simply didn't know what to say. She stared at the modest little city with its two-storey buildings and narrow roads and blinked curiously at it all. It was at that moment that the first of many horse-drawn carriages began to arrive, and her attention was diverted.

They climbed up into one with Mint, who had mysteriously appeared at their side and was glancing distastefully at the quaint main street with her face pinched into an expression of impatience. Lettuce leaned forward, her fingers resting against the lip of the window, to gaze outside as the carriage lurched away from the kerb. The small city gave way to rows of cottages with lovely little front gardens and picket fences, and then to rolling green countryside. She stared in disbelief at the cordoned paddocks of cows and sheep and the swaying cornfields with eyes so wide it was a wonder they didn't burst.

It was only a short journey to Cherrywood Grove. The carriage slowed to turn into a long, narrow lane with a white wooden sign protruding from the earth, the name of the estate engraved in slanting brass. They trundled up a slow inclination, then the path dipped down and curved in a slow bend to bring them close to their destination. The path became a driveway lined with oak trees that threw dappling shadows over the stones, leading to a white structure that could be glimpsed in the distance.

This was Miss Fujiwara's holiday home, as it turned out, and the girls stared at it as they hopped down eagerly from the carriage. Lettuce thought that she might never take another carriage ride in her life – she had spent so many long hours on transportation today that she was rather weary of coaches. She was longing to take a stroll, and was beginning to wonder how ladies of society like Mint and Ichigo could bear those stuffy carriage compartments all day.

"Oh, how charming!" Ichigo was gushing, her hands clasped excitedly. The house was long and beautiful, painted snow-white, with French doors and windows and a large wraparound porch. The sprawling gardens fanned out to either side, disappearing into thick forest in the distance. As they all stood, expressing their appreciation for their fine accommodation, several smartly-dressed coachmen – all younger than herself, Ichigo noted – emerged from the house to start taking all the suitcases inside.

"Do come inside out of the cold," Zakuro invited with a calm, lovely smile, though the breeze that kissed their cheeks was not at all unpleasant. "How awful it would be for my guests to contract sickness upon arrival! The maids will show you to your rooms. Please feel free to refresh before dinner; it has been a most tiring day."

She took up the awaiting arm of the ever-smiling Keiichiro and together they climbed the steps up onto the porch, leading the way into the house. Ichigo clasped Lettuce's hand excitedly as the guests began following, and flashed a wide, enthusiastic smile.

And now it begins, Lettuce thought, her stomach fluttering nervously. The curtains were about to draw for their scandalous little performance. She took hold of her skirts, drew a steadying breath, lifted her chin, and, soft eyes filled with wavering resolve, stepped out of the shoes of shy, meek Lettuce Midorikawa – left so very far behind her now – and into the role of Lime Odayaka.

* * *

**September 13, 2010.**

**A/N: **Readers! Your response to the last chapter was so amazingly quick - you guys hit the 20-review mark even before I'd completely finalised this chapter! Kudos to you! :D

A few things I might make note of here, because I think you all might be interested :)

In case nobody hadn't noticed, I changed the date of the story (in the summary) from 1826 to 1846. If you had noticed, no, you're not crazy. XD;;; This is for several reasons. Several _historical_ reasons. XD The first and foremost is that there were several places that didn't exist yet in the 1820s. Chelsea, for example, wasn't founded until 1830. Hoboken, New Jersey (where they make port) didn't exist until 1849, so I've actually still fudged that one by a few years. XD So, historically, the 1820s was a much more restricted period of time to work with than the 40s. Plus, extending my research for that decade I discovered that steam locomotives (trains) weren't around until then, nor were paddle steamers. I happen to particularly like both of them for Romantic Era pieces, so that was another reason to jump twenty years. Apologies to anyone who was confused! And thanks to wikipedia for being as reliable as ever :P

Onward to more interesting things! Looks like Kish might be starting to worm his way into Ichigo's affections - or will she stand stubborn in spite of his efforts (and undeniable charm XD)? Is Masaya really her true love? Has Lettuce ruined her chances with the ever-unemotive Baron Kagakusha? Did she even have any in the first place? Is Keiichiro's congeniality and kindness merely that, or could there be something more? Does he really love Zakuro? But, perhaps most intriguingly, why is Mint suddenly always in the company of the elusive Mr. Shirogane?

We're at the halfway mark of Chiffon Kisses, everyone, and the scandals are about to entwine themselves into a messy tangle of interwoven, sticky, romantic webs! Who will fall in love? Who will fall out of love? And will there actually be a wedding? ;) Review to find out. **25** reviews and I'll post chapter 6.

**Thanks** are in accord, as always, to my lovely reviewers:

**- Ally Marton** (perhaps my most dedicated reader :'3 xoxo)

**- Essence of Gold** (love to you, as always, for your support xx)

**- LucyShirogane **(don't worry! The Ryou/Ichigo is coming soooon! Real soon! Promise! :D)

and

**- Kiichigo-chan** (welcome to Chiffon Kisses! XD Thanks to you, there's a chapter 5! :D)

... for your support and love. You all keep this story going. :3

Love always,

**Cherrie xx**

Click me! :D

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V


	6. Six

**Chiffon Kisses and Porcelain Smiles**

**~ SIX ~**

* * *

"Lime, darling?"

There was a soft knock at the door. Lettuce turned from the mirror at the vanity as Ichigo poked her head in.

"Hello," she greeted softly with a nervous little smile. Ichigo advanced, shutting the door over gently.

"_Do _try not to fret," she advised, crossing straight to the closet. Lettuce's personal lady's maid had earlier unpacked her trunk and put away all her things, while Lettuce herself had pretended not to hover anxiously, biting back each insistence that she handle the job herself. In spite of her acting role, she simply couldn't bring herself to sit back while someone else – someone she was absolutely no better than – did the hard work for her. Why, it mortified her.

She was acutely conscious, however, that she could not – ever – complete her lady's maid's chores herself. Nor could she give her lady's maid any reason to suspect her for what she truly was. So she was resigned to the awful awkwardness she would have to face each time the servant-girl entered the room.

She felt _awfully _guilty.

"Enough of that," Ichigo's voice said presently, dragging her out of her thoughts. There was a shrewd expression on her face. "Darling, your worrisome eyes shall give our game away."

"Hush!" Lettuce gasped, aforementioned eyes glancing worriedly at the still-ajar door. "Why, if _anybody _should overhear…"

"Then we shall talk no more of it," Ichigo said firmly. "And you shall keep in your mind the purpose for which you have come along. Please, Lime–" She emphasised the name with firm distinction "–I have complete faith that you can do this. You simply need to trust yourself. Okay?"

Lettuce nodded bashfully. Ichigo smiled brightly. "Good. Now, come and select a dress."

~S2~

The pavilion was a vast room of white weatherboards and crystal windows, connected to the main house by a tunnel of wrought-iron archways entwined with ivy and forget-me-nots, and lit by a single, magnificent diamond chandelier. Ladies in glorious gowns swept in fluid circles with their dashing chaperones, the jewels at their throats glinting in the light.

In the corner with Ichigo, Lettuce felt at once as beautiful as a precious gem and horribly underdressed in her blooming mauve silk strapless gown. Its bodice was sewn tightly to her slender waist and sprinkled with tiny diamonds that twinkled whenever she moved. A string of pearls was clasped around her neck – loaned to her from Ichigo – but her ears, having never been pierced, were bare. Several wisps of silky green, come astray from the stylishly loose pile atop her head, toyed with her pale shoulders.

"Stand a little straighter," Ichigo whispered, taking a sip of bubbly champagne. "You look simply stunning, and you must at least _pretend _to know it."

Lettuce obediently pulled her shoulders back, her eyes fixed on the dancing. How perfectly charming they all were, and so elegant. Lettuce, of course, had never been to a dance in her life, and had never been taught the graceful ways of the waltz. She watched enviously as the young men twirled their partners effortlessly, like swans circuiting a peaceful lake.

Ichigo giggled suddenly into one gloved hand. Startled, Lettuce turned inquisitive blue eyes to her friend. "Whatever is the matter?"

Ichigo gave her a mischievous look. "The Baron is looking your way."

She flicked her brown eyes away, shifting her gaze subtly so Lettuce could look across the room. Baron Kagakusha was standing prim and tall in a chocolate waistcoat, the collar of his white shirt stiff at his neck. From the pocket of his vest hung a golden chain, the pocket-watch attached tucked away from sight. The moment she looked over tentatively, his steely gaze shifted. Heat flushed her cheeks; she shifted her weight nervously.

"Good heavens, darling," Ichigo murmured, delighted. "Do stand still or you might attract attention to yourself."

"But Miss Ichigo–" Ichigo cleared her throat sharply. "Ichigo," Lettuce amended quickly. She glanced fleetingly at the Baron once more, but he was now conversing with somebody she didn't recognise. "However should I face him after–"

"Darling, but it's rather obvious," Ichigo replied, taking another sip of her champagne. Her cheeks were rosy, her smile broad. Her eyes twinkled merrily. She gave a small hiccup. "Why, you must hold his interest!"

"Hush!" Lettuce begged, hoping nobody was listening to this embarrassing conversation. "That would be _most _inappropriate indeed!"

"Oh, piddle!" Ichigo replied scornfully, waving one gloved hand dismissively. "We are here to have fun, Le-ime! And fun is what we will have. Now, what you must do is– Oh, bother it!" Lettuce blinked, startled, and turned to see what had interrupted Ichigo. Emerging from the ring of dancers was the tall figure of a blonde man, and on his arm, in a breathtaking arrangement of red silk, was Mint.

As if on cue, Mint caught sight of the pair of them and promptly steered her companion over.

"Why, if it isn't my darling friends," she greeted with a great air of pleasant surprise that Lettuce saw straight through. She shifted uncomfortably, her stomach twisting with nerves. "I trust you are enjoying the party?"

"Rather," Ichigo said loudly, and Mint reluctantly tore her serpent-eyes from Lettuce. Letting out a breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding, Lettuce glanced at her brave friend to discover, with astonishment, a glower upon her pretty face. She turned her eyes now to the man Ichigo was levelling the glare at–

–and for the second time in the space of a few moments, felt her breath taken rather forcibly from her lips.

He was without a doubt the most handsome man she'd ever laid eyes upon. Eyes of deep azure beneath steady, refined brows. Locks of golden-blonde that shone under the chandelier, emanating a soft golden glow that reminded her of an angelic halo. A strong jaw and perfect lips, set in a firm line. Beneath his dashing tuxedo, his shoulders were broad, his figure built yet slender.

Voices babbled in a fuzzy, vague hum in the background of her consciousness, but Lettuce found she was so taken by the stranger that she simply couldn't hear anything clearly.

"I have it on good authority," Mint was saying to an irritated Ichigo, "that you've already met the Duke on more than one occasion."

"D-duke–?" Ichigo blurted, taken aback. She stared, wide-eyed, at the blonde man, who, for some reason, was refusing to look at her with admirable determination.

"Why, Ichigo," Mint gasped with a slow smile of deep satisfaction, "You mean you didn't _know_? The Duke of Gateshead is a _most _revered individual of the _highest _esteem, aren't you, Mr. Shirogane?"

She smiled enchantingly up at him from beneath thick black lashes. He glanced at her, and the smallest of smiles tugged at the corner of his otherwise perpetually-frowning lips.

"I should hardly say so myself."

"Oh, but you _are _modest!" Mint trilled. She turned to Ichigo with a huge, fake smile, and beneath it the redhead glimpsed the winning smile of victorious triumph. "Don't you agree, Ichigo?"

"Yes," Ichigo said, altogether too bluntly. She cleared her throat when Mint's smile sharply faltered. "Rather too modest, if I may be so bold."

When the Duke glanced at her, it was her turn to avoid his eyes. How could she dare to show him such open disregard, now that she knew of his nobility? She flushed hotly with humiliation. Why, he'd played her for a fool all this time!

"But why are you all alone?" Mint asked faux-sympathetically. "You should be dancing!"

"A question I was about to pose to Miss Ichigo myself." A voice abruptly joined their conversation and Ichigo, already smiling radiantly, looked around Mint with childish enthusiasm. Masaya Aoyama, looking handsome in his charcoal-grey suit, smiled back, eyes only for her. He reluctantly tore his gentle gaze away to kiss the hands of Mint and Lettuce, nodding respectfully to the Duke, who nodded rather curtly in return.

"Mr. Aoyama," Mint greeted. "What a pleasant surprise."

She shot a quick, accusing glance at Ichigo, clearly surprised, but Masaya continued speaking. "If you don't mind my whisking her away, I believe it's time Miss Ichigo joined the dancing." He held out one olive-skinned hand, his eyes earnest and unabashed. "Shall we?"

Still beaming radiantly, Ichigo all but threw her hand into his, and had started to be led away when she abruptly remembered Lettuce. "Oh!" Masaya obediently stopped. Ichigo turned back, her big brown eyes full of apologies. Lettuce, whose heart had begun hammering in alarm, smiled weakly.

"Will you be quite all right for a moment, Lime, darling?" Ichigo asked. Lettuce could hear her reluctance, and felt a stab of guilt in her stomach for being such a burden to her.

"Why, Ichigo," Mint interrupted with a little laugh. Her eyes glittered in a most disconcerting fashion. "You doubt your dear friend so? You need not fuss over Lime. Enjoy your dance."

A moment later, Ichigo had disappeared into the circle. Mint turned those glittering snake-eyes back to Lettuce, the tiniest of sneers curling her upper lip. Lettuce felt like cowering, but merely straightened her shoulders and tilted her chin up, as Ichigo had instructed.

"Darling," Mint cooed, and Lettuce felt sure she had never been more terrified of her mistress. "I hate to see you standing all alone. You, too, should dance."

"Oh," Lettuce gasped quickly, blushing furiously. "But M-Mint, d-dear, you know I have little talent for this p-particular style of d-dance." She shifted nervously again. Mint relished in her discomfort. If the little wretch thought she could mosey her way among their elite society without the slightest of hurdles, well, she had another thing coming. Mint was going to play along with Ichigo's little charade in order to protect her name, but she was going to make this as difficult for Lettuce as possible.

She was smiling viciously when the Duke spoke unexpectedly from beside her. "I could teach you, if you wish to learn."

She looked up at him in alarm. He couldn't be serious. Mr. Shirogane glanced impassively at Lettuce, then down at Mint, and gave a little, dismissive shrug.

"Oh," Lettuce murmured, giving the Duke a doe-eyed star-struck look. "I-I couldn't." Mint felt like scoffing. Her little goody-two-shoes act might have everybody else fooled, but if she was the only one who could see the lies and deceit, so be it. Lettuce had her own conscience to live with. She smirked in satisfaction. The Duke was on _her _arm, and she intended to keep it that way.

"Nonsense," Ryou said shortly, and to her horror, he released his arm from hers. "You certainly won't ever learn by simply watching."

He couldn't explain why he felt the sudden desire to see this miserably shy maiden dancing successfully among the rest. Perhaps it was her vulnerability – the weakness in her soft blue eyes – or the timidness in her uncertain little smile, a modesty that was attempted so often by other young ladies, always in vain, yet so natural in her. Or perhaps it was Mint's obvious victimisation of her. It really didn't matter, for Ryou Shirogane wished to teach her how to dance, and he was rarely denied something he wanted.

And so the painfully awkward girl laid trembling fingers against his arm and he led her confidently into the circle.

~S2~

"There you are."

Mint pushed her way irritably past a small cluster of socialites, huffing and puffing her way to where Kish lazed casually by one large, arched window. His golden eyes were fixed on the dancing circle, an expression in them that she realised, with unpleasant surprise, she didn't recognise. A small frown was playing about his slender lips.

"Hello, darling," he said without looking at her.

"And whatever has you so sour?" Mint demanded, snatching a flute of champagne from a passing waiter and tossing it against her lips. Kish didn't reply. He knocked back half a flute of champagne and promptly reached for another.

"Good heavens!" Mint commented, one eyebrow kicking. "You _are _quite upset about something."

"I don't intend to insult you," Kish's warm-honey voice replied sullenly, "But I really rather desire solitude this evening."

Mint's mouth dropped open. "I beg your pardon!"

He glanced at her, and she registered an expression of forlorn in his eyes. "Do forgive my impudence, Mint. I would simply prefer to be alone to-night."

"Well, aren't you a miserable sod!" she snorted. "Very well. I'll leave you to it, then. But before I depart, be so kind as to at least explain the means for such a despondent request."

Kish was quiet for a moment, that strange expression flashing in the depths of his eyes again. Abruptly, he turned to her and said, with surprising irritation, "I am a desirable suitor, am I not?"

Mint blinked, astonished at this odd remark. "Yes, darling, of course you are." A tiny smirk played with her small mouth. "I would have thought the many deflowered ladies of Manhattan should be proof enough for you."

A scowl twisted Kish's lips. He muttered something to himself, then said to her, "And would you entrust yourself to me?"

Mint laughed airily. "Darling, with eyes like yours a girl must keep her wits about her."

"Would you?" he pressed.

"Heavens, no! Kish, darling, I would be willing to bet one of my father's estates that you might go to bed with me at night and wake the following morning in the arms of another!" She laughed jovially again, failing to register the dark expression burning in her companion's eyes. "But, darling, whatever is this about?"

"Pay it no mind," he snapped, then pushed away from the wall and stalked into the crowd, leaving Mint, unpleasantly baffled, in his wake.

~S2~

"See? It really rather isn't so difficult, once you get the hang of it."

Lettuce was far more interested in the warm hand at her back, and the fingers curled around her own, to really pay close attention to what he was saying. She stumbled every so often, but had surprised herself in managing to follow his lead without making a complete fool of herself. The moment the dancing became progressive, however, she would flee. She didn't think she was brave enough to try and dance with somebody else.

Presently, she glanced up at him, blushing at how close together their bodies were. He was gazing across the circle at something, and when she instinctively following his line of sight she realised it was Ichigo and Masaya, talking and laughing easily as they danced. Ichigo misstepped and stumbled; he steadied her easily in his arms. They practically radiated glowing happiness.

Lettuce bit her lip, wishing she was more confident, like Ichigo, to talk to the beautiful man she was dancing with. As it was, his presence seemed to render her speechless. Whenever she worked up the courage to open her mouth she would find her tongue frozen awkwardly, or the words she had structured so carefully in her mind would dissipate and scatter in her brain. She could only gaze up at him in stunned awe and meek adoration of him.

The Duke glanced at her suddenly and she blushed, quickly looking down. Who was she, anyway, to be so bold as to speak to someone as noble as him?

"Why, Ryou, I do believe you've managed to frighten the poor girl into silence!"

They stopped dancing, and Lettuce looked up into the smiling face of kind Keiichiro Akasaka. Unexplainable relief washed over her, and she found a small smile ghosting her lips. His gentle brown eyes sparkled at her; he winked playfully.

"And where is the lovely bride-to-be?" Ryou asked, carefully impassionate. His polite curiosity was measured.

"Attending to some guests," Keiichiro replied. "I'm afraid one of the ladies seems to have had a little too much champagne. She knocked one of the plants in the hall and the vase broke."

"How unfortunate," Ryou replied, sounding quite uninterested.

"I hope you are enjoying the evening," Keiichiro said, smiling. Ryou gave a sort of half-shrug. Keiichiro turned his gaze to Lettuce. "May I be so impertinent as to cut in? You aren't offended are you, Ryou, my good man?"

"I should say not," the Duke replied, inclining his head. He nodded politely to Lettuce, who experienced a measured dismay as he disappeared into the dancing. Looking up into Keiichiro's gentle face, she felt immediately ashamed of herself for being so ungrateful. Her tall companion took up her arm, sliding his other around her waist, and he led her into the waltz.

"I must admit I'm rather comforted to see you so recovered," Keiichiro commented, his soft brown eyes fixed upon her face. For what felt like the millionth time that evening, Lettuce blushed.

"I do hope I was not a cause for concern," she murmured shyly. "I'm ever so sorry for being such a burden."

"Good lord, my dear, you were no burden," Keiichiro reassured her, gliding her gracefully backwards. "It was no trouble, I assure you. I'm glad you were well enough to attend this evening." His eyes were warm and compassionate as he looked into hers. "It would be such a shame for such a lovely maiden like yourself to miss such an event."

"I-I, uh…" Lettuce stammered into an embarrassed silence, looking anywhere but up at him. The more she was complimented, the worse she felt about lying to them all. Especially the ones like Mr. Akasaka, who were unconditionally charitable toward her.

Keiichiro gave a soft chuckle. "Pardon my boldness, but I believe this society benefits most richly in the glow of such a personality as yours."

"I... I'm quite sure I don't understand what you mean, Mr. Akasaka," Lettuce murmured humbly, blush deepening. "You flatter me too much."

He laughed lightly. "You are delightful, Miss Lime."

She couldn't help but smile up at him, and was reassured by the kind smile he returned.

"Excuse me."

Again, the waltzing came to an abrupt halt. Lettuce and Keiichiro whirled to find – to Lettuce's amazement – the Baron standing stoically behind them, his hands clasped behind his back, his chin high and proud. He seemed to square his shoulders, barely glancing at Lettuce as he said, with utmost politeness and dignity, "May I cut in?"

Immediately, Keiichiro inclined his head in a respectful bow, and turned to give Lettuce one last gentle smile. "It has been a pleasure." With a twinkle in his eye, he backed away. For a long moment, in which her stomach knotted rather painfully with nerves, Lettuce watched him leave. Eventually, she acknowledged that her inattentiveness to her new companion was becoming quite rude, and she forced herself to turn her head. The Baron was still standing, perfectly poised, his steely eyes expressionless.

Without a word, he unclasped one hand from behind his back, offering it to her. She hesitated, then slipped her trembling hand into his. As much as she would have preferred to escape to safety, she knew she simply couldn't refuse. It wasn't done. His other arm found the small of her back, strong and steady, and they began a waltz that was stiff and meticulously proper. Lettuce stared numbly at the buttons of his waistcoat as they turned in circles, the room around them blurring into a swirl of hazy colour, aware of only his hand against her back and the violent pounding of her heart in her chest.

She said nothing and he offered no conversation, so they twirled in a silence she might have thought companionable if she wasn't feeling so awkward. Surely she should apologise to him for that awful insult on the train. Now was a most suitable time, while she was publically alone with him, and nobody was around to witness her humiliation.

"I…" She trailed off abruptly when he turned his gaze to her. Under the inscrutable expression in his eyes, Lettuce faltered, flushing redder than ever. She flicked her uncertain glance up again, but his gaze remained fixed. Biting her lip, she stared down at his shiny black shoes.

"What is it you are trying to say?" His voice was cool and calm – the waters of a peaceful lake.

Lettuce took a deep breath, and realised she had subconsciously huddled down. She straightened her shoulders reflexively, and the vaguest hint of amusement played in his eyes. Again she took a breath, but stared at him a full second before exhaling in dismay, unable to speak, heat radiating from her face.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" she blurted.

"Whatever for?" he murmured, blinking once, presumably in surprise.

"For… for…" she trailed off, trying to drag the words together in her head. It all came out in one gush. "For not being able to find the words to apologise to you, and for finding it necessary to apologise to you in the first place – oh, for everything! My impertinence was unforgivable and inappropriate. I… I should never have been so insensitively insulting." She broke off abruptly, sucking in a sharp breath, astonished at her own baldness.

He was silent, watching her face intently. She flushed hotly, shifting uncomfortably as she waited for him to say something. It was then, as her fingers twisted together nervously and her heart hammered wildly in her chest, that she realised they had, at some point, stopped dancing; they were simply standing, looking at each other. She couldn't meet his eyes. Her hair was slowly coming loose; several wayward strands of green had strayed into her face and down her back.

Wordless, the Baron reached slowly up, and carefully, with gentle, steady fingers, brushed a few strands back from her cheek, tucking them with delicate precision behind her ear.

Lettuce's breath caught in her throat.

She stared up at him, shock locking her gaze with his, unreadable and intense as ever. For the first time, she wished she could read his expression; know what he was thinking. The fingers that had toyed with her hair lingered now at her chin. In a room full of gossiping socialites, the Baron was standing daringly close to her. But the room had long ceased to exist to Lettuce.

He spoke then, his voice a low, smooth murmur, his eyes unmoving from hers. "You could never offend me."

And Lettuce was overwhelmed with such a force of emotion that her head spun dizzyingly with elation, her knees went weak with relief, and she very nearly toppled in his arms.

~S2~

"Oh, do excuse me," Ichigo laughed breathlessly. She smiled brilliantly up at Masaya, who was steering her obediently away from the dancing. "I'm afraid I'm rather in need of refreshment."

"Shall I get you some champagne?" he asked immediately. "Or some punch?"

"Oh, no," Ichigo replied, still smiling. "I wouldn't want to bother you with such trivialities! Oh!" She stumbled on her hem and he steadied her elbow. Ichigo giggled and turned adoring eyes to him. "I must thank you. I would fall on my face if you were not here to catch me." She laughed merrily and he smiled down at her.

"I must confess I'm rather glad it is I who may catch you, Miss Ichigo." His expression turned bashful for a moment, as though humbled by his audacity; he gave a nervous laugh, blushing just the faintest beneath his smooth, tanned complexion. "I admit, I wouldn't very much like to see you fall. I suppose I must always be around to catch you then, mustn't I?"

It was Ichigo's turn to blush. Inside, a little voice in her heart squealed excitedly.

"I'll just get that punch, shall I?" she tittered airily, eyes sparkling. "One for you, Mr. Aoyama?"

"That would be lovely."

She did a funny little half-curtsey in her mindless excitement and practically danced away to the punch bowl. She was grinning hugely, ladling fruity red juice into two frosted glasses when a voice spoke from beside her, startling her so that she splashed punch on the tablecloth, "My, aren't we in a charitable mood this evening?"

She bristled all the way down her spine. "Why do you _insist _on engaging me in conversation, Mr. Ranzatsu, when I must have made it rather abundantly clear that I have no desire to seek your company?"

The teasing smile upon his lips faded just a little. The light in his eyes brightened. "Why, my darling kitten, you are just so _very _fascinating."

Ichigo finally lost what very little patience she still harboured for him. "And what, may I enquire, is so _very _fascinating about me?"

He hesitated for a moment; she watched mercilessly as he floundered and quickly recovered. "But you are such a spirited young lady. Your company is quite riveting."

"I see," Ichigo said, intensely detesting the way his smouldering eyes made her stomach feel funny. She swallowed, picking up the two crystal glasses so as not to be distracted into conversing with him for too long. "I have a few questions for you, Mr. Ranzatsu."

"Anything you ask," he replied with a slow smile.

"If I were to join you for lunch, what would you order for me?"

"I'm not sure I understand–"

"And if you were to surprise me with a gift of, say, a new bonnet," Ichigo went on, "what colour would you select for the sash?"

"These questions are rather–"

"And if you were to buy me a bouquet of flowers, would you choose tulips or peonies?"

"I'm afraid I rather am at a loss as to what you're talking about," Kish said, looking at her as though he suspected she might have lost her mind.

"What I am talking about, Mr. Ranzatsu," Ichigo said firmly, "is the very simple fact that you know so painfully little about me. I rather think you know nothing at all. Why, you proved just now that you couldn't answer three very simple questions about me."

Kish paled. "Forgive my audacity, but that was hardly a fair trial."

"There will be no trials!" Ichigo snapped. "For I do not seek your interest! Across the room is a man who knows to order strawberry cheesecake at tea, a pink sash for my bonnet, and peonies for my mantel. I seek only his attention, so _please_, if you look to please me, leave me alone!"

Seething up at him, Ichigo stormed away, the contents of the glasses splashing most unceremoniously in her hands.

~S2~

At precisely a quarter-past midnight, the cheerfully-chattering guests began to leave the white-glass pavilion and drift back toward the house. The party was over, though – judging by the numerous drunken giggles – the celebrations looked set to continue in private quarters. Ladies' heels clip-clopped messily against the curved brick path.

Mint trailed her slender, gloved fingers along one of the iron arches, the cool night air whispering about her bare shoulders. Up ahead, she glimpsed Ichigo strolling arm-in-arm with Lettuce, the two of them talking and laughing merrily. A scowl flickered in her dark eyes and she felt, for the briefest of moments, a rare pang of jealousy. Ichigo was, after all, supposed to be _her _friend and _her _guest, even if she was intensely irritating at times. If that abominable servant-girl wasn't here, it might have been Mint Ichigo linked arms with. That was how it should have been, at any rate.

Mint glared at the green-haired girl's back, curling her fingers into the intricate iron pattern of the arch. She wasn't yet ready to admit to herself that she missed her Virginian friend's cheerful company, but she _could _confess that her maid had become something of a wedge driven between them. If it weren't for Ichigo's unfathomable pity for the lesser-off and Lettuce's offensive charade, their friendship might not be so in tatters.

Mint ripped her eyes from the duo and turned to gaze over the dark grounds as a violent pulse of anger surged in her chest. She listened to the breeze in the trees and the laughing voices fading into the night, taking slow, calming breaths and trying to regain her composure. When the last lingering fizzle of irritation was simmering unthreateningly in the pit of her stomach, Mint sighed.

An owl hooted inoffensively, its wistful, gloomy call reminding her of the late hour. She started up the path again, now vacant and almost mysterious in the shadows, making her way slowly back to the house. As she stepped up onto the back porch, resolution settled inside her. There might not be anything she could do right now about Ichigo and Lettuce, but it certainly wasn't the only predicament in which she was helpless. After all, she still had another friend, one who had been acting most obscurely of late, and, if she admitted it to herself, was beginning to worry her – another emotion she was quite unused to.

And so she abruptly changed direction in the hall and set off for a new destination.

There was only reigning silence as answer when she rapped sharply but quietly against Kish's door. She carefully turned the brass knob and noiselessly pushed it open ajar. The room beyond was pitch-black; the faint light from the hall cast a long, pale line against the carpet, illuminating a dark figure lounging in the window-seat.

Mint entered, shutting the door over behind her, and crossed the room to where he sat, staring silently out over the shadow-kissed gardens.

"Whatever has gotten into you?" Mint snapped, her usual brusqueness quite unintended this time. She made a conscious effort to slacken her shoulders and soften her tone a little. "Please tell me you've not been sitting here since you left my side at the party."

Kish was, for once, uncharacteristically unresponsive. She stood, watching his chest rise and fall, his face half obscured by shadow, half lit up ice-blue in the moonlight. Finally, when the silence stretched on and it became clear he wasn't about to speak, Mint sighed through her nose and sank down delicately on the window-seat by his feet. "Give me the glass."

He did so, but not before he'd thrown back the last of its amber contents. Mint sniffed the last few droplets, wrinkling her nose at the overpowering odour that assailed her nostrils and made her head spin for a moment. She frowned heavily at the glass, and then at him, putting it on the dresser.

"Why are you drinking yourself blind, and all alone?" Mint demanded. "Why, Kish, that really is rather pitiful."

"Save your pity," he grumbled.

Mint blinked at him, quite unused to this depressing behaviour. "Darling, whatever is the matter?"

"I am tired, Mint," Kish replied shortly. "Please leave me alone."

"You don't honestly think to turn me out, after I walked all the way here," Mint returned scornfully. "Though I suppose it really is rather scandalous my being here at such a time." She gazed contemplatively around at the dark furniture, wondering whether it would be worth the few days' damage to her reputation to have such an exciting article written in to-morrow's papers.

"And besides," she added as an after-thought, "If you were tired you would already be asleep."

Kish ignored this last comment. "And what exactly _are _you doing in my room past mid-night, Miss Mint?"

She glanced at him, but he was still gazing, unsmiling, out the window. The faintest of blushes dusted her cheeks warmly as she realised she was going to have to swallow her pride – something she only did on the most extreme of situations. She pursed her lips, then reasoned that she supposed this did rather count as one of those situations. "Well," she began, "if I were to be entirely honest with you, I suppose it might have something to do with your rather alarming behaviour to-night."

"And are you going to be entirely honest?"

"Not likely."

Kish gave a short, humourless laugh through his nose. "I doubt I'll live to see the day you show compassion for another human being, Miss Aizawa."

For some unexplainable reason, this burned with more force than Mint expected. She drew herself up straighter, finding herself rather offended, and heat rushed to her cheeks. Quick, hot anger flashed in her eyes. "I beg your pardon?"

Of course she'd always known what she was like – self-centred and quite superficial at times – but it was one thing to quietly accept her own flaws (which she would readily admit had never really seemed such a problem), and quite another to have them pointed out by someone else. Especially someone who quite often shared those flaws, and had never offended her so bluntly in their many years of friendship. She felt quite wounded.

Kish, again, was moodily silent.

And as Mint sat there, pride bruised and irritation simmering once more, running over all the possible catalysts that could have caused him to be so spiteful and childishly sulky, the answer clicked with shocking clarity, surprising her with its simplicity. She sat for a few moments, refusing to believe it truly was the answer but struggling to find any others that made as much sense, then said, fighting to keep the disbelief and amusement from her voice, "Please tell me this has nothing to do with Ichigo."

Kish's heavy silence was all the answer she needed. Mint rose from the window-seat, turning to face him with her hands propped on her hips. "So all these silly tantrums… and this mindless drinking… it's simply because you fail to win her affections."

Kish muttered something incomprehensible, but Mint wasn't listening. The truth was stirring the pot of anger in her chest, and its contents were spilling hot and thick through her veins. "All this time you've been acting like a spoiled child because she refuses to give you her kiss!"

"She _will _give me her kiss!" Kish declared furiously.

Mint's mouth dropped open, her voice taking on a hard, sharp edge, as cutting as a knife. "_What _is so heartbreakingly _special_ about her?" She spat the word 'special' like it was something repulsive.

She'd seen the way the Aoyama boy looked at Ichigo, and even caught her own suitor, the richly embellished, implausibly wealthy and dashingly charming Ryou Shirogane, glancing over at her every so often. This pathetic pining of Kish's was simply the final straw. She just _couldn't understand _why everybody seemed to be so attracted to the girl who, in her eyes, was altogether ungraceful, inexperienced, ill-mannered at the best of times, and decidedly ordinary.

"Kish, countless girls have fallen for you," Mint said, watching him mope with irritation. "One girl resisting your charms should _not _have you questioning yourself. Wherever has your insufferable confidence disappeared to? This is most unlike you."

"She will not resist me," Kish snapped. "Nobody resists me."

Mint rolled her eyes. "Why should you give her such power to bring you down? Why, you could seduce any woman you so desire. Leave her be and move on."

"I will not give in!" Kish all but bellowed. He shot to his feet unexpectedly, looming over her. "I _do not _give in. Women give in to me!"

"And now you're simply being unreasonable," Mint said, in her most infuriatingly light tone. "Stop being such a child."

"Don't patronize me so!" Kish growled, grabbing her shoulders and giving them a solid shake.

Momentary alarm shot down Mint's spine, but she quickly recovered. "Let go of me!"

Kish stilled. He'd pulled her close to his chest in his tantrum and she glared up at him. His breath, coming ragged and uneven, brushed against her forehead, toying with several strands of midnight-blue. His eyes, slightly unfocused, shone pale golden in the milky moonlight. As she seethed up at him, Mint saw his expression change; pinpointed the moment the realisation clicked in his mind. Suddenly, he was staring at her with newfound wonder. Already, she knew she didn't like it.

"You say I can make any woman fall for me," he said, a little breathlessly, and tossed his messy jade hair out of his eyes.

"Kish–"

"Prove it," he demanded over her attempt at a warning. "Prove it to me right now."

A long time ago, a much younger Mint might have melted to a puddle at his feet if he'd looked at her with the intensity he bestowed upon her now. For old time's sake, her heart gave a feeble little shudder and kicked up a notch in her chest, but she hardened her expression and gave his chest a good shove so that she broke out of his hold.

"I am your friend, Kish," she said in a low, warning voice. "Please do not try to do this. I promise you, nothing good will come of it."

Evidently, he wasn't listening to her. He stepped toward her and reached for her hand. Furious, Mint swatted it sharply. "Are you hard of hearing? Or are you choosing not to listen to me?"

"Do not deny me," he murmured, reaching for her again. Frustration welled in her chest, and she stepped back deliberately, eyes flashing hotly.

"I'm afraid you're rather too late," she snapped. "Whatever I felt for you expired quite some time ago – not that you ever noticed, of course." With an angry little shriek, she slapped his hand away again, but he was persistent this time, and somehow, she ended up quite locked in his arms. His eyes, fierce liquid gold, gazed down into hers, angry and dark and dangerous. He brought his face close, though she strained against him, his breath tickling her lips, stained thickly with bourbon.

"You are drunk," she reminded him furiously, pushing vainly against his chest. "I doubt you hardly know yourself at present, let alone me. For goodness' sake, Kish, release me!"

Instead, he worked one hand to the back of her neck and tilted her head back to kiss her. His mouth was firm and insistent, mashing softly against hers. Electricity sparked from her lips all the way to the tips of her fingers, which had instantly ceased struggling and were now balled in the fabric of his shirt. For a long moment she simply kissed him back, revelling in the realisation of the fantasies of her thirteen-year-old self, marvelling at how astonishingly well their mouths fitted together.

But it took only a moment for her fury to recover, and it returned white-hot and ten-fold. Wrenching her lips away, she raised her hand and brought it across his cheek with as much force as she could muster. The resounding smack rang sharply in the heavy silence, and when he turned to stare at her in shock, she could already see the angry red mark in the shadows of his face.

"H-how dare you?" she whispered, her voice shaking. To her immense irritation, her eyes swam, and two cold, angry tears dripped down her cheeks. Kish blinked, still staring, and seemingly came to, his eyebrows furrowing over golden eyes flickering with confusion.

"Mint…"

She broke from his embrace and stumbled to the door, which she threw open carelessly, her gloved fingers wiping hastily at her face as she slipped into the dark corridor.

"Mint!" he called after her, but by now she was gone, and he was left with only the heavy, unforgiving silence for company, and the steady beating of his heart for consolation.

* * *

**September 23, 2010.**

**A/N:** Guys... guys... ! Oh my goodness, you have no idea how much I loved writing this chapter! And you have no idea how up and down my emotions were as I wrote it. XD This story is probably not having the best effect on me. Getting way too involved. XD;;

Okay, so oh my gosh. Lettuce/Pie anyone? And Mint/Kish! MINT/KISH! (Essie, there it is! :'D) Oh, I just _adore_ them. S2

But poor Lettuce - her emotions were thrown all over the place in this chapter. First Ryou, then Keiichiro, then Pie, all in one evening! The poor thing's probably going to have a heart attack soon, the way it's being stretched all over the place. And who would have thought Mint had once been in love with Kish? (Not me, that's for sure. I just wrote it in on the spot. XD;;) How will this unfortunate evening change things with the elusive Ryou Shirogane (who is actually a duke! Dun-dun-duuun! :D)? What exactly _are_ his thoughts on Miss Mint, anyway? And what of Kish's determined chase after Ichigo - will he continue with such aplomb? And while it may seem like the Baron might have feelings for Lettuce, after all, what will happen when he discovers who she really is? (Because you all know it's bound to happen eventually... ;P)

Want to find out? You know the drill! Next chapter will be posted if we hit **30+** reviews.

Thanks, as always, to my lovely readers:

**- LucyShirogane** (Ah! You scared me. XD Sorry; couldn't resist. I'm sorry, though; I just couldn't push Masaya under the train. He's imperative to the storyline. XD)

**- Kyasarin Freakload** (Of course there are going to be pairings! This story IS pairings, and basically nothing else! XD;; But as to Ryou... I can't tell you if he ends up with Ichigo, because I just don't know that yet myself. XD)

**- Joy Johnson** (Yes, Kish is being rather jerkish, isn't he? Never fear... incoming R/I fluff to compensate :D)

**- Ally Marton **(I like Keiichiro/Zakuro, too. Especially in this story, for some reason. XD And yes, Kish did try to seduce Ichigo in a train car. You did read that correctly. XD I'm surprised you think Pie is like Mr. Darcy; a lot of other readers relate him to Ryou. XD But high fives for liking Masaya! Join the remote few of us who seem to have formed a Team Masaya club. Woo! XD;;)

**- Just Cy** (Trust me, there'll be enough drama in these next 5 chapters that you won't want any more after the tenth! XD)

and

**- Zakun-chan** (Another newcomer! Welcome! Glad you're enjoying the story :3)

... for all the feedback and comments. As always, your reviews make the story :)

Until the next exciting installment, everybody! Keep well and keep reading!

Love always,

**Cherrie xx**


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